ia 


'rtrvrj 


MOLLY  BROWN'S 
SOPHOMORE  DAYS 


BY 

NELL   SPEED 

AUTHOR   OF   "  MOLLY   BROWN'S   FRESHMAN   DAYS,"   ETC. 


WITH  FOUR  HALF-TONE  ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY  CHARLES  L.  WRENN 


Copyright,  1912, 

BY 
HURST  &   COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  RETURN  OF  THE  WANDERERS     .       5 

II.     OTOYO 17 

III.  A  CLASHING  OF  WITS  .     .     .     ,.     .     33 

IV.  A  TEMPEST  IN  A  TEAPOT  ....     47 
V.  AN  UNWILLING  EAVESDROPPER     ,.:    >     62 

VI.  TWO  LONG-DlSTANCE  CALLS       ...       76 

VII.  THE  GLEE  CLUB  CONCERT     ...     94 

VIII.  A  JAPANESE  SPREAD     .     .     .     .     .   in 

IX.     VESPERS        .     , .   126 

X.  ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL     .     .   140 

XI.  THE  GREAT  SLEET  OF  19 —     .     .     .158 

XII.  THE  SKATING  CARNIVAL     .     .     .     .169 

XIII.  THE  THAW  .........   182 

XIV.  QUESTIONS  AND  ANSWERS  ....   196 
XV.  A  RECOVERY  AND  A  VISIT  .     .     .     :.  212 

XVI.  CHRISTMAS  EVE  PLOTS  .     .     .     .     .  230 

XVII.  A  CHRISTMAS  SURPRISE     ....  245 

3 


2227224 


4  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVIII.  BREAKING  THE  NEWS                    .     ;.  258 

XIX.  How  O'REILLY'S  BECAME  QUEEN'S     .  269 

XX.  THE  TURN  OF  THE  WHEEL     .     .      .  283 

XXI.     IN  THE  GARDEN 295 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Frontispiece      ------- 

PAGE 

"Why  don't  you  answer  me,  Judy  ?"    -    -  8 

Otoyo    took    the    slip    and,        .... 

translated  in  a  high,  funny  voice.      -  ,.,-  117 

Around  and  round  they  skimmed. .  -    .,-  -  174 


Molly  Brown's  Sophomore  Days 

CHAPTER   I. 

THE  RETURN  OF  THE  WANDERERS. 

"I  never  thought  I  could  be  so  glad  to  be  any- 
where except  home,"  thought  Molly  Brown  as 
she  swung  off  the  'bus,  and,  seizing  her  suit  case, 
ran  into  Queen's  Cottage  without  so  much  as 
ringing  the  bell. 

Two  juniors  whom  Molly  had  known  only  by 
sight  the  year  before  and  several  freshmen  had 
been  in  the  Wellington  omnibus ;  no  one  in  whom 
she  could  confide  her  enthusiasm  as  the  'bus 
turned  a  bend  in  the  road  and  Wellington's 
towers  came  into  view. 

"Molly !  Molly !"  cried  a  voice  from  somewhere 
in  the  upper  regions  of  Queen's,  and  down  three 

5 


6          MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

flights  of  stairs  rushed  a  wild  figure,  her  fluffy 
light  brown  hair  standing  out  all  over  her  head 
and  her  voluminous  kimono  sailing  behind  her 
like  the  tail  of  a  kite. 

"Oh,  Judy,  it's  good  to  see  you  again,"  cried 
Molly,  and  the  two  girls  were  instantly  folded  in 
each  other's  arms  in  a  long,  loving  embrace. 

"You  remind  me  strongly  of  Meg  Merriles," 
continued  Molly,  holding  her  friend  off  at  arms' 
length  and  giving  her  a  joyful  little  shake.  "You 
look  as  if  you  had  been  running  over  the  moors 
in  the  wind." 

"You'd  think  I  was  a  bit  daffy  if  you  could 
see  my  room,"  replied  Julia  Kean,  who,  those 
of  you  who  have  met  her  in  an  earlier  story  will 
recall,  was  nicknamed  "Judy"  by  her  friends. 
"I'm  unpacking.  It  looks  like  the  world  in  the 
era  of  chaos:  mountains  of  clothes  and  islands 
of  shoes  and  archipelagoes  of  hats  all  jumbled 
into  a  hopeless  mass.  But,  never  mind  that 
now.  Let's  talk  about  each  other.  Come  on 
upstairs.  Your  room's  ready.  I  looked  in  half 
an  hour  ago.  You've  got  new  wall  paper  and  a 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  WANDERERS          7 

fresh  coat  of  paint.  That's  because  you  are  one 
of  Mrs.  Markham's  little  pets." 

"Really,"  cried  Molly,  delighted.  "How 
charmed  Nance  will  be.  And  I've  brought  some 
white  dimity  curtains  with  ruffled  edges  to  hang 
at  the  windows.  I  made  them  last  summer  when 
it  was  ninety-eight  in  the  shade.  Where  is  Nance, 
by  the  way?  And  where  are  all  the  Queen's 
girls,  and  what  new  ones  are  here  ?" 

"One  at  a  time,  Miss  Brown,"  laughed  Judy, 
following  Molly  up  to  the  third  story  and  into 
the  large  room  shared  by  Molly  and  her  friend, 
Nance  Oldham. 

"How  sweet  it's  going  to  look,"  cried  Molly, 
clasping  her  hands  and  gazing  around  her  with 
all  the  ardor  of  a  returned  wanderer.  "But 
where  is  Nance?" 

Judy's  face  became  very  grave. 

"Is  it  possible  you  haven't  heard  the  news  about 
Nance?"  she  said. 

"Judy,  what  do  you  mean?"  cried  Molly,  tak- 
ing off  her  hat  and  running  her  fingers  through 
her  rumpled  auburn  hair,  a  trick  she  had  when 


8          MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

she  was  excited  and  overwrought.  "Now,  tell 
me  at  once  what  has  happened  to  Nance.  How 
could  you  have  kept  it  from  me?  Dear  old 
Nance!" 

Judy  blew  her  nose  violently. 

"Why  don't  you  answer  me,  Judy  ?  Isn't  Nance 
coming  back?  I  haven't  heard  from  her  for 
weeks.  Oh,  do  tell  me." 

"I'm  going  to  tell  you  in  a  minute,"  answered 
Judy.  "I  can't  blow  my  nose  and  talk  at  the  same 
time.  It's  a  physical  impossibility.  I've  got  a 
wretched  cold,  you  see.  I  am  afraid  it's  going 
into  influenza." 

"Julia  Kean,  you  are  keeping  something  from 
me.  I  don't  care  a  rap  about  your  nose.  Isn't 
Nance  coming  back?" 

Molly  almost  fell  on  her  knees  in  the  excess 
of  her  anxiety.  Judy  turned  her  face  away  from 
those  appealing  blue  eyes  and  coughed  a  forced 
throaty  cough. 

"Suppose  I  should  say  she  wasn't  coming  back, 
Molly?  Would  you  mind  it?" 


'WHY  DON'T  YOU  ANSWER  ME,  JUDY?" — Page  8. 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  WANDERERS          9 

"Would  I  mind  it?"  repeated  Molly,  her  eyes 
filling  with  tears. 

Suddenly  the  closet  door  was  flung  open  and 
out  rushed  Nance. 

"Oh,  Molly,  forgive  me,"  she  cried,  throwing 
her  arms  around  her  roommate's  neck.  "Judv 
thought  it  would  be  a  good  practical  joke,  but  I 
couldn't  stand  the  deception  any  longer.  It  was 
worth  it,  though,  if  only  to  know  you  would 
miss  me." 

"Miss  you?"  exclaimed  Molly.  "I  should  think 
I  would.  Judy,  you  wretch!" 

"I  never  did  say  she  wasn't  coming,"  replied 
Judy.  "I  simply  said,  'Is  it  possible  you  haven't 
heard  the  news  about  Nance?'  It  shows  how 
your  heart  rules  your  head,  Molly.  You  shouldn't 
take  on  so  until  you  get  at  the  real  truth.  Your 
impetuous  nature  needs " 

Here  Judy  was  interrupted  by  the  noise  of  a 
headlong  rush  down  the  hall.  Then  the  door 
was  burst  open  and  three  girls  blew  into  the  room 
all  laughing  and  talking  at  once. 

"My  goodness,  it  sounds  like  a  stampede  of 


10        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

wild  cattle,"  exclaimed  Judy.  "How  are  you, 
old  pals?" 

A  general  all-round  embrace  followed. 

It  was  Margaret  Wakefield,  last  year's  class 
president;  her  chum,  Jessie  Lynch;  and  Sallie 
Marks,  now  a  senior,  but  not  in  the  least  set  up 
by  her  exalted  state. 

"Where's  Mabel  Hinton?"  someone  demanded. 

"She's  moved  over  to  the  Quadrangle  into  a 
singleton.  She  wanted  to  be  nearer  the  scene 
of  action,  she  said,  and  Queen's  was  too  diverting 
for  her  serious  life's  work,"  so  Margaret  ex- 
plained. 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Molly.  "I'm  one  of  those 
nice  comfortable  home  bodies  that  likes  the  fam- 
ily to  keep  right  on  just  the  same  forever,  but 
I  suppose  we  can't  expect  everybody  to  be  as 
fond  of  this  old  brown  house  as  we  are.  Sit 
down,  everybody,"  she  added,  hospitably.  "And 
— oh,  yes,  wait  a  moment — I  didn't  open  this  on 
the  train  at  all." 

She  fell  on  her  knees  and  opened  her  suit  case 
while  her  friends  exchanged  knowing  smiles. 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  WANDERERS        11 

"Ruling  passion  even  strong  in  death,"  ob- 
served Judy. 

"Of  course  it's  something  good  to  eat," 
laughed  pretty  Jessie. 

"Of  course,"  replied  Molly,  pitching  articles 
of  clothing  out  of  her  satchel  with  all  the  care- 
lessness of  one  who  pursues  a  single  idea  at  a 
time.  "And  why  not?  My  sister  made  them 
for  me  the  morning  I  left  and  packed  them  care- 
fully in  a  tin  box  with  oiled  paper." 

"Cloudbursts!"  they  cried  ecstatically  and 
pounced  on  the  box  without  ceremony,  while 
Molly,  who,  like  most  good  cooks,  had  a  small 
appetite,  leaned  back  in  a  Morris  chair  and  re- 
garded them  with  the  pleased  satisfaction  of  a 
host  who  has  provided  satisfactory  refreshment 
for  his  guests. 

The  summer  had  made  few  changes  in  the 
faces  of  her  last  year's  friends.  Margaret  was 
a  bit  taller  and  more  massive,  and  her  handsome 
face  a  little  heavier.  Already  her  youthful  lines 
were  maturing  and  she  might  easily  have  been 
mistaken  for  a  senior. 


12        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

Nance  was  as  round  and  plump  as  a  partridge 
and  there  was  a  new  happiness  in  her  face,  the 
happiness  of  returning  to  the  first  place  she  had 
ever  known  that  in  any  way  resembled  a  home. 
Nance  had  lived  in  a  boarding  house  ever  since 
she  could  remember;  but  Queen's  was  not  like 
a  boarding  house;  at  least  not  like  the  one  to 
which  she  was  accustomed,  where  the  boarders 
consisted  of  two  crusty  old  bachelors;  a  widow 
who  was  hipped  about  her  health  and  always 
talked  "symptoms";  a  spinster  who  had  taught 
school  for  thirty  years;  and  Nance's  parents — 
that  is,  one  of  them,  and  at  intervals  the  other. 
Mrs.  Oldham  only  returned  to  her  family  to  rest 
between  club  conventions  and  lecture  tours. 

Judy  had  a  beautiful  creamy  tan  on  her  face 
which  went  admirably  with  her  dreamy  gray 
eyes  and  soft  light  brown  hair.  There  were  times 
when  she  looked  much  like  a  boy,  and  she  did  at 
this  moment,  Molly  thought,  with  her  hair  parted 
on  one  side  and  a  brilliant  Roman  scarf  knotted 
around  her  rolling  Byronic  collar. 

Jessie,  just  now  engaged  in  the  pleasing  occu- 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  WANDERERS        13 

pation  of  smiling  at  her  own  image  in  the  mirror 
over  the  mantel,  was  as  pretty  as  ever.  As  for 
Sallie  Marks,  every  familiar  freckle  was  in  its 
familiar  place,  and,  as  Judy  remarked  later,  she 
had  changed  neither  her  spots  nor  her  skin.  She 
had  merely  added  a  pair  of  eye-glasses  to  her 
tip-tilted  critical  nose  and  there  was,  perhaps, 
an  extra  spark  of  dry  humor  in  her  pale  eyes. 

Molly  was  a  little  thin.  She  always  "fell-off" 
after  a  ninety-eight-in-the-shade  summer;  but 
she  was  the  same  old  Molly  to  her  friends,  pos- 
sessed with  an  indescribable  charm  and  sweet- 
ness: the  "nameless  charm,"  it  had  been  called, 
but  there  were  many  who  could  name  it  as  being 
a  certain  kindly  gentleness  and  unselfishness. 

"What's  the  news,  gitls  ?"  she  demanded,  giv- 
ing a  general  all-round  smile  like  that  of  a 
famous  orator,  which  seemed  to  be  meant  for 
everybody  at  once  and  no  one  in  particular. 

"News  is  scarce ;  or  should  I  say  'are'  ?"  replied 
Margaret.  "Epimenides  Antinous  Green,  'the 
handsomest  man  ever  seen,'  wras  offered  a  chair 
in  one  of  the  big  colleges  and  refused." 


14        MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"But  why?"  cried  Molly,  round-eyed  with 
amazement. 

"Because  he  has  more  liberty  at  Wellington 
and  more  time  to  devote  to  his  writings." 

Molly  walked  over  to  the  window  to  hide  a 
smile. 

"The  comic  opera/'  she  thought. 

"He's  just  published  a  book,  you  know,  on  the 
'Elizabethan  Drama,' '  went  on  Margaret, 
"which  is  to  be  used  as  a  text  book  in  lots  of 
private  schools.  And  he's  been  on  a  walking 
trip  through  England  this  summer  with  George 
Theodore " 

"How  did  you  know  all  that?"  interrupted 
Judy. 

"Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  came  up  to  Well- 
ington on  the  train  with  Andy  McLean  and  he 
answered  all  the  questions  I  asked  him,"  replied 
Margaret,  laughing.  "I  also  answered  all  the 
questions  he  asked  me  about  a  particular  young 
lady " 

Nance  pretended  to  be  very  busy  at  this  mo- 
ment with  the  contents  of  her  work  bag.  The 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  WANDERERS        15 

other  girls  began  laughing  and  she  looked  up, 
disclosing  a  scarlet  countenance. 

"Don't  you  know  she  never  could  take  a  teas- 
ing?" cried  Judy. 

"Who's  teasing?"  answered  Margaret.  "No 
names  were  mentioned." 

"Don't  you  mind,  Nance,  dear,"  said  Molly, 
always  tender-hearted  when  it  came  to  teasing. 
"The  rest  of  us  haven't  had  one  'inquiring  friend/ 
as  Ca'line,  our  cook,  used  to  call  them.  When  I 
wrote  letters  for  her  to  her  family  in  Georgia, 
she  always  finished  up  with  'Now,  Miss  Molly, 
jes'  end  with  love  to  all  inquirin'  friends.' ' 

The  dainty  little  French  clock  on  the  mantel, 
one  of  Nance's  new  possessions,  tinkled  five  times 
in  a  subdued,  fairy  chime  and  the  friends  scat- 
tered to  their  various  rooms  to  unpack.  Judy 
was  now  in  Frances  Andrews'  old  room,  next  to 
the  one  occupied  by  Molly  and  Nance. 

"I  think  I'll  take  a  gimlet  and  bore  a  hole 
through  the  wall,"  she  announced  as  she  lingered 
a  moment  after  the  others  had  gone,  "so  that 
we  can  communicate  without  having  to  walk  ten 


16        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

steps — I  counted  them  this  morning — and  open 
two  doors." 

"Who  has  your  old  room,  Judy?"  inquired 
Molly. 

"You'd  never  guess  in  a  thousand  years,  so 
I'll  have  to  enlighten  you,"  answered  Judy.  "A 
young  Japanese  lady." 

"For  heaven's  sake!"  cried  Molly  and  Nance 
in  one  breath,  while  Judy,  who  loved  a  climax, 
sailed  from  the  room  without  vouchsafing  any 
more  information. 


CHAPTER   II. 

OTOYO. 

Molly  and  Nance  were  very  busy  that  night 
arranging  their  belongings.  Molly's  tastes  were 
simple  and  Nance's  were  what  might  be  called 
complicated.  Molly  had  been  reared  all  her  life 
in  large  spaces,  big,  airy  rooms,  and  broad  halls, 
and  the  few  pieces  of  heavy  old  mahogany  in 
them  were  of  the  kind  that  cannot  be  bought  for 
a  song.  Nance  had  been  reared  in  an  atmosphere 
of  oiled  walnut  and  boarding  house  bric-a-brac. 
She  was  learning  because  she  had  an  exceedingly 
observing  and  intelligent  mind,  but  she  had  not 
learned. 

Therefore,  that  night,  when  Molly  hung  the 
white  muslin  curtains,  and  spread  out  the  beau- 
tiful blue  antique  rug  left  by  Frances  Andrews, 
she  devoutly  hoped  that  Nance  would  "go  easy" 
with  the  pictures  and  ornaments. 

17 


18        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"What  we  want  to  try  to  do  this  year,  Nance," 
she  announced  from  the  top  of  the  step  ladder, 
"is  to  keep  things  empty.  We  got  fairly  messy 
last  winter  after  Christmas.  I'm  going  to  keep 
all  those  banners  and  things  packed  this  year." 

"Perhaps  I'd  better  not  get  out  those  passe- 
partouted  Gibson  pictures,"  began  Nance  a  little 
doubtfully. 

"Just  as  you  like,  Nance,  dear,"  said  Molly. 

She  would  rather  have  hung  the  wall  with 
bill  posters  than  have  hurt  her  friend's  feelings. 

"Honestly,  you  aren't  fond  of  them,  are  you?" 
asked  Nance. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  that,"  apologized  Molly.  "But  I 
think  so  many  small  pictures  scattered  over  a 
big  wall  space  are — well,  rather  tiring  to  the 
optic  nerves." 

Nance  looked  sad,  but  she  had  unbounded  faith 
in  Molly's  opinions. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  this  big  empty  wall 
space,  then?"  she  asked,  pausing  in  her  unpack- 
ing to  regard  a  sea  of  blue-gray  cartridge  paper 
with  a  critical  eye. 


OTOYO  19 

At  this  juncture  there  came  a  light,  timid  tap, 
so  faint,  indeed,  that  it  might  have  been  the  swish 
of  a  mouse's  tail  as  he  brushed  past  the  door. 

Molly  paused  in  her  contemplation  of  blank 
walls  and  listened. 

"Did  you  hear  anything,  Nance?"  she  asked. 
"I  thought  I  heard  a  tapping  at  our  chamber 
door." 

"Come  in,"  called  Nance  briskly. 

The  door  opened  first  a  mere  crack.  Then 
the  space  widened  and  there  stood  on  the  thresh- 
old the  diminutive  figure  of  a  little  Japanese  girl 
who  by  subsequent  measurements  proved  to  be 
exactly  five  feet  one-half  an  inch  in  height.  She 
was  dressed  "like  white  people,"  to  quote  Molly, 
that  is,  in  a  neat  cloth  suit  and  a  straw  turban, 
and  her  slanting  black  eyes  were  like  highly  pol- 
ished pieces  of  ebony. 

"I  beg  the  honorable  pardon  of  the  young 
ladies,"  she  began  with  a  prim,  funny  accent. 
"I  arrive  this  moment  which  have  passing  at  the 
honorable  home  of  young  ladies.  I  not  find  no 
one  save  serving  girl  who  have  informing  me 


20        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

of  room  of  sleeping  in.  Honorable  lady  of  the 
house,  her  you  calling  'matronly/  not  in  at  pres- 
ent passing  moment.  I  feeling  little  frighting. 
You  will  forgive  poor  Otoyo?" 

With  an  almost  superhuman  effort  Molly  con- 
trolled her  face  and  choked  back  the  laughter 
that  bubbled  up  irrepressibly.  Nance  had  buried 
her  head  in  her  trunk  until  she  could  regain  her 
composure. 

"Indeed  I  do  forgive  you,  poor  dear.  You 
must  feel  strange  and  lonely.  Just  wait  until  I 
get  down  from  the  ladder  and  I'll  show  you  your 
bedroom.  It  used  to  be  the  room  of  one  of  my 
best  friends,  so  I  happen  to  know  it  very  well." 

Molly  crawled  down  from  the  heights  of  the 
step  ladder  and  took  the  little  Japanese  girl's 
brown  hand  in  hers.  "Shall  we  not  shake  hands 
and  be  friends?"  she  said.  "We  are  such  near 
neighbors.  You  are  just  down  there  at  the  end 
of  the  hall,  you  see.  My  name  is  Brown,  Molly 
Brown,  and  this  is  my  roommate,  Nance  Old- 
ham." 

"I  with  much  pleasure  feel  to  making  acquain- 


OTOYO  21 

tance  of  beautiful  young  ladies,"  said  the  Japan- 
ese girl,  smiling  charmingly  and  showing  two 
rows  of  teeth  as  pointed  and  white  as  a  spaniel's. 

Nance  had  also  risen  to  the  occasion  by  this 
time,  and  now  shook  Miss  Otoyo  Sen's  hand  with 
a  great  show  of  cordiality,  to  make  up  for  her 
crimson  face  and  mouth  still  unsteady  with 
laughter.  They  conducted  the  Japanese  girl  to 
her  room  and  turned  on  the  lights.  There  were 
two  new-looking  American  trunks  in  the  room 
and  two  cases  covered  with  matting  and  in- 
scribed with  mystic  Japanese  hieroglyphics. 
Wired  to  the  cord  wrapping  was  an  express  tag 
with  "Miss  O.  Sen,  Queen's  Cottage,  Welling- 
ton," written  across  it  in  plain  handwriting. 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Miss  Otoyo,  clasping  her 
hands  with  timid  pleasure,  "my  estates  have  unto 
this  place  arriving  come." 

Nance  turned  and  rushed  from  the  room  and 
Molly  opened  the  closet  door. 

"You  can  hang  all  your  things  in  here,"  she 
said  unsteadily,  "and  of  course  lay  some  of  them 
in  the  bureau  drawers.  Better  unpack  to-night. 


22        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

because  to-morrow  will  be  a  busy  day  for  you. 
It's  the  opening  day,  you  know.  If  we  can  help 
you,  don't  hesitate  to  ask." 

"I  am  with  gratitude  much  filled  up,"  said  the 
little  Japanese,  making  a  low,  ceremonious  bow. 

"Don't  mention  it,"  replied  Molly,  hastening 
back  to  her  room. 

She  found  Nance  giving  vent  to  noiseless 
laughter  in  the  Morris  chair.  Tears  were  rolling 
down  her  cheeks  and  her  face  was  purple  with 
suppressed  amusement.  Molly  often  said  that, 
when  Nance  did  laugh,  she  was  like  the  pig  who 
died  in  clover.  When  he  died,  he  died  all  over. 
When  Nance  succumbed  to  laughter,  her  entire 
being  was  given  over  to  merriment. 

"Wasn't  it  beautiful?"  she  exclaimed  in  a  low 
voice.  "Did  you  ever  imagine  such  ludicrous 
English?  It  was  all  participles.  How  do  you 
suppose  she  ever  made  the  entrance  exam- 
inations?" 

"Oh,  she's  probably  good  enough  at  writing. 
It's  just  speaking  that  stumps  her.  But  wasn't 
she  killingly  funny?  When  she  said  'my  estates 


OTOYO  23 

have  unto  this  place  arriving  come/  I  thought 
I  should  have  to  departing  go  along  with  you. 
But  it  would  have  been  rude  beyond  words. 
What  a  dear  little  thing  she  is !  I  think  I'll  go 
over  later  and  see  how  she  is.  America  must 
be  polite  to  her  visitors." 

But  Japan,  always  beforehand  in  ceremonious 
politeness,  was  again  ahead  of  America  in  this 
respect.  Just  before  ten  o'clock  the  mouse's  tail 
once  more  brushed  their  door  and  Nance's  sharp 
ears  catching  the  faint  sound,  she  called, 
"Come  in." 

Miss  Otoyo  Sen  entered,  this  time  less  timidly, 
but  with  the  same  deprecating  smile  on  her 
diminutive  face. 

"Begging  honorable  pardon  of  beautiful  young 
ladies,"  she  began,  "will  condescendingly  to  ac- 
cept unworthy  gift  from  Otoyo  in  gratitude  of 
favors  receiving?" 

Then  she  produced  a  beautiful  Japanese  scroll 
at  least  four  feet  in  length.  In  the  background 
loomed  up  the  snow-capped  peak  of  the  ever- 
present  sacred  mountain,  Fujiyama,  and  the  fore- 


24        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

ground  disclosed  a  pleasing  combination  of  sky- 
blue  waters  dotted  with  picturesque  little  islands 
connected  with  graceful  curving  bridges,  and 
here  and  there  were  cherry  trees  aglow  with 
delicate  pink  blossoms. 

"Oh,  how  perfectly  sweet,"  exclaimed  the 
girls,  delighted. 

"And  just  the  place  on  this  bare  wall  space!" 
continued  Molly.  "It's  really  a  heaven-sent  gift, 
Miss  Sen,  because  we  were  wishing  for  something 
really  beautiful  to  hang  over  that  divan.  But 
aren't  you  robbing  yourself?" 

"No,  no.  I  beg  you  assurance.  Otoyo  have 
many  suchly.  It  is  nothing.  Beautiful  young 
ladies  do  honor  by  accepting  humbly  gift." 

"Let's  hang  it  at  once,"  suggested  Molly, 
"while  the  step  ladder  is  yet  with  us.  Queen's 
step  ladder  is  so  much  in  demand  that  it's  very 
much  like  the  snowfall  in  the  river,  'a  moment 
there,  then  gone  forever.' ' 

The  two  girls  moved  the  homely  but  coveted 
ladder  across  the  room,  and,  with  much  careful 
shifting  and  after  several  suggestions  timidly 


OTOYO  2£ 

made  by  Otoyo,  finally  hung  up  the  scroll.  It 
really  glorified  tht;  whole  room  and  made  a 
framed  lithograph  of  a  tea-drinking  lady  in  a 
boudoir  costume  and  a  kitten  that  trifled  with 
a  ball  of  yarn  on  the  floor,  Nance's  possession, 
appear  so  commonplace  that  she  shamefacedly 
removed  it  from  its  tack  and  put  it  back  in  her 
trunk,  to  Molly's  secret  relief. 

'Won't  you's'it  down  and  talk  to  us  a  few  min- 
utes?" asked  Nance.  "We  still  have  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  before  bed  time." 

Otoyo  timidly  took  a  seat  on  a  corner  of  one 
of  the  divans.  The  girls  could  not  help  noticing 
another  small  package  which  she  had  not  yet 
proffered  for  their  acceptance.  But  she  now 
placed  it  in  Nance's  hand. 

"A  little  of  what  American  lady  call  'meat- 
sweet/  "  she  said  apologetically.  "It  all  way 
from  Japan  have  coming.  Will  beautiful  ladies 
accept  so  humbly  gift?" 

The  box  contained  candied  ginger  and  was 
much  appreciated  by  young  American  ladies,  the 


26        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

humble  giver  of  this  delightful  confection  being 
far  too  shy  to  eat  any  of  it  herself. 

By  dint  of  some  questioning,  it  came  out  that 
Otoyo's  father  was  a  merchant  of  Tokio.  She 
had  been  sent  to  an  American  school  in  Japan 
for  two  years  and  had  also  studied  under  an 
English  governess.  She  could  read  English  per- 
fectly and,  strange  to  say,  could  write  it  fairly 
accurately,  but,  when  it  came  to  speaking  it,  she 
clung  to  her  early  participial-adverbial  faults,  al- 
though she  trusted  to  overcome  them  in  a  very 
little  while.  She  had  several  conditions  to  work 
off  before  Thanksgiving,  but  she  was  cheerful 
and  her  ambition  was  to  be  "beautiful  American 
young  lady." 

She  was,  indeed,  the  most  charming  little  doll- 
like  creature  the  girls  had  ever  seen,  so  unreal 
and  different  from  themselves,  that  they  could 
hardly  credit  her  with  the  feelings  and  sensibili- 
ties of  a  human  being.  So  correctly  polite  was 
she  with  such  formal,  stiff  little  manners  that  she 
seemed  almost  an  automaton  wound  up  to  bow 
and  nod  at  the  proper  moment.  But  Otoyo  Sen 


OTOYO  27 

was  a  creature  of  feeling,  as  they  were  to  find 
out  before  very  long. 

"Did  many  girls  come  down  on  the  train  with 
you  to-night,  Miss  Sen?"  asked  Nance,  by  way 
of  making  conversation. 

Several  young  ladies  had  come,  Miss  Sen  re- 
plied in  her  best  participial  manner.  All  had 
been  kind  to  Otoyo  but  one,  who  had  frightened 
poor  Japanese  very,  very  much.  One  very  kind 
American  gentleman  had  been  commissioned  to 
bring  little  Japanese  down  from  big  city  to  Uni- 
versity. He  had  look  after  her  all  day  and 
brought  her  sandwiches.  He  friend  of  her  father 
and  most,  most  kindly.  He  had  receiving  letters 
from  her  honorable  father  to  look  after  little 
Japanese  girl. 

Across  the  aisle  from  Otoyo  had  sat  a  "beeg 
young  American  lady,  beeg  as  kindly  young  lady 
there  with  peenk  hair,"  indicating  Molly.  The 
"beeg"  young  American  lady,  it  seems,  had  great 
"beeg"  eyes,  so:  Otoyo  made  two  circles  with 
her  thumbs  and  forefingers  to  indicate  size  of 
young  American  lady's  optics.  She  called  Otoyo 


28        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"Yum- Yum"  and  she  made  to  laugh  at  humble 
Japanese  girl,  but  Otoyo  could  see  that  young 
American  lady  with  beeg  eyes  feeling  great 
anger  toward  little  strange  girl. 

"But  for  what  reason?"  asked  Molly,  slipping 
her  arm  around  Otoyo's  plump  waist.  "How 
could  she  be  unkind  to  sweet  little  Japanese 
stranger  ?" 

"Young  great-eyed  lady  laugh  at  me  mostly 
and  I  very  uncomfortably."  She  brought  out  the 
big  word  with  proud  effort. 

"But  how  cruel!  Why  did  she  do  it?"  ex- 
claimed Nance. 

Here  Otoyo  gave  a  delicious  melodious  laugh 
for  the  first  time  that  evening. 

"She  not  like  kindly  gentlemanly  friend  to  be 
attentionly  to  humble  Japanese." 

"What  was  the  gentleman's  name,  Otoyo?" 
asked  Molly;  and  somewhat  to  her  surprise 
Otoyo,  who,  as  they  were  to  learn  later,  never 
forgot  a  name,  came  out  patly  with: 

"Professor  Edwin  Green,  kindly  friend  of 
honorable  father," 


OTOYO  29 

"Did  the  young  lady  call  him  'Cousin'  ?"  asked 
Nance  in  the  tone  of  one  who  knows  what  the 
answer  will  be  beforehand. 

"Yes,"  answered  Otoyo  Sen. 

"The  same  old  Judith  Blount,"  laughed  Molly. 

And  Nance  recalled  Judy's  prophetic  speech  on 
the  last  day  of  college  in  June:  "Can  the  le-o- 
pard  change  his  spots  ?" 

Then  the  first  stroke  of  the  tower  clock  began 
to  chime  the  hour  of  ten  and  they  promptly  con- 
ducted Otoyo  to  her  bedroom  with  the  caution 
that  all  lights  must  be  out  at  ten,  a  rule  she  fol- 
lowed thereafter  with  implicit  obedience. 

The  next  morning,  Molly  and  Nance  took 
Otoyo  under  their  especial  care.  They  introduced 
her  to  all  the  girls  at  Queen's,  placed  her  be- 
tween them  at  Chapel,  showed  her  how  to  reg- 
ister and  finally  took  her  on  a  sight-seeing  ex- 
pedition. 

It  turned  out  that  through  Professor  Green 
her  room  had  been  engaged  since  early  the  win- 
ter before.  Why  he  should  have  chosen  Queen's 
they  hardly  knew,  since  Otoyo  appeared  to  have 


30  MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
plenty  of  money  and  might  have  lived  in  more 
expensive  quarters.  But  Queen's  he  had  selected, 
and  that  very  evening  he  called  on  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham  to  see  that  his  little  charge  was  comfortably 
settled.  Molly  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  as  he 
followed  the  maid  through  the  hall  to  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham's  sitting  room,  and  made  him  a  polite  bow. 
She  felt  somewhat  in  awe  of  the  Professor  of 
English  Literature  this  winter,  since  she  was  to 
be  in  one  of  his  classes,  Lit.  II,  and  was  very 
fearful  that  he  might  consider  her  a  perfect 
dunce.  But  Professor  Green  would  not  pass 
Molly  with  a  bow.  He  paused  at  the  door  of  the 
living  room  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you  back  and  looking  so  well," 
he  said.  "My  sister  asked  to  be  remembered  to 
you.  I  saw  her  only  yesterday." 

The  Professor  looked  well,  also.  His  brown 
eyes  were  as  clear  as  two  brown  pools  in  the  for- 
est and  there  was  a  healthy  glow  on  his  face; 
but  Molly  could  not  help  noticing  that  he  was 
growing  bald  about  the  temples. 


OTOYO  31 

"Too  bad  he's  so  old,"  she  thought,  "because 
sometimes  he's  really  handsome." 

"I  am  commissioned,"  he  continued,  "to  find 
a  tutor  for  a  young  Japanese  girl  boarding  here, 
and  I  wondered  if  you  would  like  to  undertake 
the  work.  She  needs  lessons  in  English  chiefly, 
but  she  has  several  conditions  to  work  off  and  it 
would  be  a  steady  position  for  anyone  who  has 
time  to  take  it.  Her  father  is  a  rich  man  and 
willing  to  pay  more  than  the  usual  price  if  he 
can  get  someone  specially  interested  who  will 
take  pains  with  his  daughter's  education." 

"I'm  willing  to  do  all  that,"  said  Molly,  "but 
it  goes  with  the  job,  don't  you  think?  I  have  no 
right  to  ask  more  than  is  usually  asked." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  have,"  answered  the  Professor 
quickly.  "What  you  can  give  her  means  every- 
thing to  the  child.  She  is  naturally  very  timid 
and  strange.  If  you  are  willing  to  give  up  sev- 
eral hours  to  her,  say  four  times  a  week,  I  will 
arrange  about  salary  with  her  father  and  the 
lessons  may  begin  immediately." 

It  was  impossible  for  Molly  to  disguise  her 


32        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

feelings  of  relief  and  joy  at  this  windfall.  Her 
lack  of  funds  was,  as  usual,  an  ever-present 
shadow  in  the  background  of  her  mind,  although, 
through  some  fine  investments  which  Mrs. 
Brown  had  been  able  to  make  that  summer,  the 
Brown  family  hoped  to  be  relieved  by  another 
year  of  the  pressure  of  poverty. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  CLASHING  OF  WITS. 

Queen's  Cottage  seemed  destined  to  shelter 
girls  of  interesting  and  unusual  types. 

"They  always  do  flock  together,  you  know," 
Miss  Pomeroy  had  remarked  to  the  President, 
as  the  two  women  sat  talking  in  the  President's 
office  one  day.  The  question  had  come  up  with 
the  subject  of  the  new  Japanese  student,  the  first 
of  her  nation  ever  to  seek  learning  in  the  halls 
of  Wellington. 

"They  do,"  said  the  President,  "but  whether 
it's  the  first  comers  actively  persuading  the  next 
ones  or  whether  it's  a  matter  of  unconscious  at- 
traction is  hard  to  tell." 

"In  this  case  I  understand  it's  a  matter  of  very 
conscious  attraction  on  one  side  and  no  persua- 
sion on  the  other,"  replied  Miss  Pomeroy.  "That 
charming  overgrown  girl  from  Kentucky,  Miss 

33 


34        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

Brown,  although  she's  as  poor  as  a  church  mouse 
and  last  year  even  blacked  boots  to  earn  a  little 
money,  is  one  of  the  chief  attractions,  I  think. 
But  some  of  the  other  girls  are  quite  remarkable. 
Margaret  Wakefield  lives  there,  you  know.  She 
makes  as  good  a  speech  as  her  politician  father. 
It  will  be  interesting  to  watch  her  career  if  she 
only  doesn't  spoil  everything  by  marrying." 

The  two  spinsters  looked  at  each  other  and 
laughed. 

"She  won't,"  answered  the  President.  "She's 
much  too  ambitious." 

"Then,"  went  on  Miss  Pomeroy,  "there's  Julia 
Kean.  She  could  do  almost  anything  she  wished, 
and  like  all  such  people  she  doesn't  want  to  do 
anything.  She  hasn't  a  spark  of  ambition.  It's 
Miss  Brown  who  keeps  her  up  to  the  mark.  The 
girl  was  actually  about  to  run  away  last  winter 
just  at  mid-years.  She  lost  her  courage,  I  be- 
lieve, and  there  was  a  remarkable  scene,  but  she 
was  induced  to  stay." 

"Who  are  the  other  girls?"  asked  the  Presi- 
dent thoughtfully. 


A   CLASHING   OF   WITS  35 

"One  of  them,  you  recall,  is  a  daughter  of  the 
famous  suffragette,  Mrs.  Anna  Oldham.  But  I 
fancy  the  poor  daughter  has  had  quite  enough 
of  suffrage.  The  only  other  really  interesting 
characters  at  Queen's,  besides  your  Japanese, 
are  two  sophomores  who  roomed  at  Plympton's 
last  year.  They  are  the  Williams  sisters,  Kather- 
ine  and  Edith,  and  they  are  remarkably  bright. 
They  work  in  a  team,  and  I  have  not  been  able 
to  discover  which  is  the  brighter  of  the  two,  al- 
though I  had  them  to  tea  once  or  twice  last  year. 
One  is  talkative  and  the  other  is  quiet,  but  I  sus- 
pect the  quiet  one  of  doing  a  deal  of  thinking." 

The  two  women  enjoyed  these  occasional  chats 
•about  Wellington  students.  They  were  accus- 
tomed to  regard  most  of  the  classes  as  units 
rather  than  the  members  as  individuals.  Some- 
times it  was  a  colorless,  uninteresting  class  with 
no  special  traits  worthy  of  admiration.  Some- 
times it  was  a  snobbish,  purse-proud  class,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  present  juniors.  And  again,  as 
with  last  year's  seniors,  it  was  a  class  of  ster- 
ling qualities  made  up  of  big  girls  with  fine 


36  MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
minds.  Seldom  did  a  class  contain  more  than 
one  or  two  brilliant  members,  often  not  one.  The 
present  sophomore  class  was  one  of  those  "freak" 
bodies  which  appear  once  in  a  life  time.  It  was 
an  unusually  small  class,  there  being  only  thirty- 
eight  members.  Some  twenty  of  these  girls  were 
extremely  bright  and  at  least  ten  gave  promise 
of  something  more  than  ordinary.  As  the  fastest 
skaters  keep  together  on  the  ice,  so  the  brightest 
girls  gradually  drifted  into  Queen's  and  became 
as  one  family.  It  was  known  that  there  was  a 
good  deal  of  jealousy  in  the  less  distinguished 
portion  of  the  class  because  of  this  sparkling 
group.  But,  all  unconscious  of  the  feeling  they 
were  exciting,  the  Queen's  girls  settled  them- 
selves down  to  the  enjoyment  of  life,  each  in 
her  own  peculiar  way. 

The  two  new  sophomores  at  Queen's  were,  in 
fact,  a  welcome  addition,  and  Molly  and  her 
friends  found  them  exceedingly  amusing.  They 
were  tall,  rather  raw-boned  types,  with  sallow 
skins  and  large,  lustrous,  melancholy  eyes. 
There  was  only  a  year's  difference  in  their  ages, 


A    CLASHING   OF   WITS  37 

and  at  first  it  was  difficult  to  tell  one  from  the 
other,  but  Edith,  the  younger  of  the  sisters,  was 
an  inch  taller  than  Katherine  and  was  very 
quiet,  while  Katherine  talked  enough  for  the 
two  of  them.  Because  they  were  always  together 
they  were  called  "the  Gemini,"  although  occa- 
sionally they  had  terrific  battles  and  ceased  to 
be  on  speaking  terms  for  a  day  or  two. 

One  afternoon,  not  long  after  the  opening  day 
at  college,  the  Williams  sisters  and  Mabel  Hin- 
ton,  who  now  lived  in  the  Quadrangle,  paid  a 
visit  to  Molly  in  her  room. 

"We  came  in  to  discuss  with  you  who  you 
consider  would  make  the  best  class  president 
this  year,  Molly,"  began  Katherine.  "It's  rather 
hard  to  choose  one  among  so  many  who  could 
fill  the  place  with  distinction " 

"But  I  think  Margaret  should  be  chosen,"  in- 
terrupted Molly.  "She  was  a  good  one  last 
year.  Why  change?" 

"Don't  you  think  it  looks  rather  like  favor- 
itism?" put  in  Mabel.  "Some  of  the  other  girls 
should  have  a  chance.  There's  you,  for  instance." 


38        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"Me?"  cried  Molly.  "Why,  I  wouldn't  know 
how  to  act  in  a  president's  chair.  I'd  be  embar- 
rassed to  death." 

"You'd  soon  learn,"  said  Katherine.  "It's  very 
easy  to  become  accustomed  to  an  exalted  state." 

"But  why  not  one  of  you?"  began  Molly. 

"It's  a  question,"  here  remarked  the  silent 
Edith,  "whether  a  class  president  should  be  the 
most  popular  girl  or  the  best  executive." 

"Margaret  is  both,"  exclaimed  Molly  loyally; 
"but,  after  all,  why  not  leave  it  to  the  vote  at  the 
class  meeting?" 

"Oh,  it  will  be  finally  decided  in  that  way,  of 
course,"  said  Katherine,  "but  such  things  are 
really  decided  beforehand  by  a  little  electioneer- 
ing, and  I  was  proposing  to  do  some  stump  speak- 
ing in  your  behalf,  Molly,  if  you  cared  to  take 
the  place." 

"Oh,  no,"  cried  Molly,  flushing  with  embar- 
rassment; "it's  awfully  nice  of  you,  but  I 
wouldn't  for  anything  interfere  with  Margaret. 
$he  is  the  one  to  have  it.  Besides,  as  Queen's 


A    CLASHING   OF   WITS  39 

girls,  we  ought  to  vote  for  her.  She  belongs  to 
the  family." 

"But  some  of  the  girls  are  kicking.  They  say 
we  are  running  the  class,  and  are  sure  to  ring 
in  one  of  our  own  crowd  just  to  have  things  our 
way." 

"How  absurd !"  ejaculated  Molly.  "I'm  sure  I 
never  thought  of  such  a  thing.  But  if  that's  the 
case,  why  vote  for  me,  then?" 

"Because,"  replied  Mabel,  "the  Caroline  Brin- 
ton  faction  proposed  you.  They  say,  if  they  must 
have  a  Queen's  girl,  they'll  take  you." 

'  'Must'  is  a  ridiculous  word  to  use  at  an 
honest  election,"  broke  in  Molly  hotly.  "Let  them 
choose  their  candidate  and  vote  as  they  like. 
We'll  choose  ours  and  vote  as  we  like." 

"That's  exactly  the  point,"  said  Katherine. 
"They  are  something  like  Kipling's  monkey 
tribe,  the  'banderlog.'  They  do  a  lot  of  chatter- 
ing, but  they  can't  come  to  any  agreement. 
They  need  a  head,  and  I  propose  to  be  that  head 
and  tell  them  whom  to  vote  for.  Shall  it  be  Molly 
or  Margaret?" 


40        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"Margaret,"  cried  Molly;  "a  thousand  times, 
Margaret.  I  wouldn't  usurp  her  place  for  worlds. 
She's  perfectly  equipped  in  every  possible  way 
for  the  position." 

Nance  and  Judy  now  came  into  the  room. 
Nance  looked  a  little  excited  and  Judy  was  red 
in  the  face. 

"Do  you  know,"  burst  out  the  impetuous  Judy, 
"that  Caroline  Brinton  has  called  a  mass  meet- 
ing of  all  the  sophomores  not  at  Queen's?  She 
has  started  up  some  cock-and-bull  tale  about  the 
Queen's  girls  trying  to  run  the  class.  She  says 
we're  a  ring  of  politicians.  We  ran  in  all  our 
officers  last  year  and  we're  going  to  try  and  do 
it  this  year." 

"What  a  ridiculous  notion,"  laughed  Molly. 
"Margaret  was  elected  by  her  own  silver-tongued 
oratory,  and  Jessie  was  made  secretary  because 
she  was  so  pretty  and  popular  and  seemed  to 
belong  next  to  Margaret  anyway." 

"But  the  question  is :  are  the  Queen's  girls  go- 
ing to  sit  back  and  let  themselves  be  libeled?" 
demanded  Nance. 


A    CLASHING   OF   WITS  41 

Here  Edith  spoke  up. 

"Of  course,"  she  said,  "let  them  talk.  Don't 
you  know  that  people  who  denounce  weaken 
their  own  cause  always,  and  it's  the  people  who 
keep  still  who  have  all  the  strength  on  their  side  ? 
Let  them  talk  and  at  the  class  meeting  to-morrow 
some  of  us  might  say  a  few  quiet  words  to  the 
point." 

The  girls  recognized  the  wisdom  of  this  deci- 
sion and  concluded  to  keep  well  away  from  any 
forced  meeting  of  sophomores  that  evening.  It 
had  not  occurred  to  simple-hearted  Molly  that  it 
was  jealousy  that  had  fanned  the  flame  of  in- 
dignation against  Queen's  girls,  but  it  had  oc- 
curred to  some  of  the  others,  the  Williamses  in 
particular,  who  were  very  shrewd  in  regard  to 
human  nature.  As  for  Margaret  Wakefield,  she 
was  openly  and  shamelessly  enjoying  the  fight. 

"Let  them  talk,"  she  said.  "To-morrow  we'll 
have  some  fun.  Just  because  they  have  made 
such  unjust  accusations  against  us  they  ought  to 
be  punished  by  being  made  to  vote  for  us." 

It  was  noted  that  Margaret  used  the  word 


42  MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 
"us"  in  speaking  of  future  votes.  She  had  been 
too  well-bred  to  declare  herself  openly  as  candi- 
date for  the  place  of  class  president,  but  it  was 
generally  known  that  she  would  not  be  displeased 
to  become  the  successful  candidate.  The  next 
morning  they  heard  that  only  ten  sophomores  at- 
tended the  mass  meeting  and  that  they  had  all 
talked  at  once. 

Later  in  the  day  when  the  class  met  to  elect 
its  president  for  the  year,  as  Edith  remarked: 
"The  hoi  polloi  did  look  black  and  threatening." 

Molly  felt  decidedly  uncomfortable  and  out  of 
it.  She  didn't  know  how  to  make  a  speech  for 
one  thing  and  she  hoped  they'd  leave  her  alone. 
It  was  utterly  untrue  about  Queen's  girls.  The 
cleverest  girls  in  the  class  happened  to  live  there. 
That  was  all. 

Margaret,  the  Williamses  and  Judy  wore  what 
might  be  called  "pugilistic  smiles."  They  intended 
to  have  a  sweet  revenge  for  the  things  that  had 
been  said  about  them  and  on  the  whole  they  were 
enjoying  themselves  immensely.  They  had  not 


A    CLASHING   OF   WITS  43 

taken  Molly  into  their  confidence,  but  what  they 
intended  to  do  was  well  planned  beforehand. 

Former  President  Margaret  occupied  the  chair 
and  opened  the  meeting  with  a  charming  little 
speech  that  would  have  done  credit  to  the  wiliest 
politician.  She  moved  her  hearers  by  her  refer- 
ence to  class  feeling  and  their  ambition  to  make 
the  class  the  most  notable  that  ever  graduated 
from  Wellington.  She  flattered  and  cajoled  them 
and  put  them  in  such  a  good  humor  with  them- 
selves that  there  was  wild  applause  when  she 
finished  and  the  Brinton  forces  sheepishly 
avoided  each  other's  eyes. 

There  was  a  long  pause  after  this.  Evidently 
the  opposing  side  did  not  feel  capable  of  compet- 
ing with  so  much  oratory  as  that.  Margaret  rose 
again. 

"Since  no  one  seems  to  have  anything  to  say," 
she  said,  "I  beg  to  start  the  election  by  nominat- 
ing Miss  Caroline  Brinton  of  Philadelphia  for 
our  next  class  president." 

If  a  bomb  shell  had  burst  in  the  room,  there 
couldn't  have  been  more  surprise.  Molly  could 


44        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
have  laughed  aloud  at  the  rebellious  and  frac- 
tious young  woman  from  Philadelphia,  who  sat 
embarrassed  and  tongue-tied,  unable  to  say  a 
word. 

Again  there  was  a  long  pause.  The  Brinton 
forces  appeared  incapable  of  expressing  them- 
selves. 

"I  second  the  nomination  of  Miss  Brinton," 
called  Judy,  with  a  bland,  innocent  look  in  her 
gray  eyes. 

Then  Katherine  Williams  arose  and  delivered 
a  deliciously  humorous  and  delightful  little  speech 
that  caused  laughter  to  ripple  all  over  the  room. 
She  ended  by  nominating  Margaret  Wakefield 
for  re-election  and  before  they  knew  it  every- 
body in  the  room  was  applauding. 

Nominations  for  other  officers  were  made  after 
this  and  a  girl  from  Montana  was  heard  to  re- 
mark: 

"I'm  for  Queen's.  They're  a  long  sight 
brighter  than  any  of  us." 

When  the  candidates  stood  lined  up  on  the  plat- 
form just  before  the  votes  were  cast,  Caroline 


A    CLASHING   OF   WITS  45 

Brinton  looked  shriveled  and  dried  up  beside  the 
ample  proportions  of  Margaret  Wakefield,  who 
beamed  handsomely  on  her  classmates  and  smiled 
so  charmingly  that  in  comparison  there  appeared 
to  be  no  two  ways  about  it. 

"She's  the  right  one  for  president,"  Judy  heard 
a  girl  say.  "She  looks  like  a  queen  bee  beside 
little  Carrie  Brinton.  And  nobody  could  say  she 
ran  the  election  this  time,  either.  Carrie  has  had 
the  chance  she  wanted." 

Molly  was  one  of  the  nominees  for  secretary 
and,  standing  beside  a  nominee  from  the  oppos- 
ing side,  she  also  shone  in  comparison. 

When  the  votes  were  counted,  it  was  found 
that  Margaret  and  Molly  had  each  won  by  a 
large  majority,  and  Caroline  Brinton  was  igno- 
miniously  defeated. 

That  night  Jessie  Lynch,  who  had  not  in  the 
least  minded  being  superseded  as  secretary  by 
Molly,  gave  a  supper  party  in  honor  of  her  chum's 
re-election.  Only  Queen's  girls  were  there,  ex- 
cept Mabel  Hinton,  and  there  was  a  good  deal 


46        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

of  fun  at  the  expense  of  Caroline  Brinton  of 
Philadelphia. 

"Poor  thing/'  said  Molly,  "I  couldn't  help  feel- 
ing sorry  for  her." 

"But  why?"  demanded  Katherine.  "She  had 
the  chance  she  wanted.  She  was  nominated,  but 
she  was  such  a  poor  leader  that  her  own  forces 
wouldn't  stand  by  her  at  the  crucial  moment. 
Oh,  but  it  was  rich!  What  a  lesson!  And  how 
charming  Margaret  was!  How  courteous  and 
polite  through  it  all.  What  a  beautiful  way  to 
treat  an  enemy !" 

"What  a  beautiful  way  to  treat  wrath,  you 
mean,"  said  her  sister ;  "with  'a  soft  answer.' ' 

"It  was  as  good  as  a  play,"  laughed  Judy.  "I 
never  enjoyed  myself  more  in  all  my  life." 

But,  somehow,  Molly  felt  a  little  uncomfort- 
able always  when  she  recalled  that  election,  al- 
though it  was  an  honest,  straightforward  elec- 
tion, won  by  the  force  of  oratory  and  personality, 
and  so  skillfully  that  the  opposing  side  never 
knew  it  had  been  duped  by  a  prearranged  plan 
of  four  extremely  clever  young  women. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
A  TEMPEST  IN  A  TEAPOT. 

"Do  you  think  those  little  feet  of  yours  will 
be  able  to  carry  you  so  far,  Otoyo  ?"  asked  Molly 
anxiously,  one  Saturday  morning. 

Otoyo  gave  one  of  her  delightfully  ingenuous 
smiles. 

"My  body  is  smally,  too,"  she  said.  "The 
weight  is  not  grandly." 

"Not  smally;  just  small,  Otoyo,"  admonished 
Molly,  who  was  now  well  launched  in  her  tutor- 
ing of  the  little  Japanese,  and  had  almost  broken 
her  of  her  participial  habits.  But  the  adverbial 
habit  appeared  to  grow  as  the  participial  habit 
vanished. 

"And  you  won't  get  too  tired?"  asked  Judy. 

"No,  no,  no,"  protested  Otoyo,  her  voice  rising 
with  each  no  until  it  ended  in  a  sweet  high  note 
like  a  bird's.  "You  not  know  the  Japanese  when 

47 


48        MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
you  say  that.     I  have  received  training.     You 
have  heard  of  jiu  jitsu?    Some  day  Otoyo  will 
teach    beautiful    young    American    lady    some 
things." 

"Yes,  but  the  jiu  jitsu  doesn't  help  you  when 
you're  tired,  does  it?" 

"Ah,  but  I  shall  not  be  tired.  You  will  see. 
Otoyo's  feet  great  bigly." 

She  stuck  out  her  funny  stubby  little  feet  for 
inspection  and  the  girls  all  laughed.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  she  was  a  sturdy  little  body  and  knew 
the  secret  of  keeping  her  strength.  She  achieved 
marvels  in  her  studies;  was  up  with  the  dawn 
and  the  last  person  in  the  house  to  tumble  into 
bed,  but  she  was  never  tired,  never  cross  and 
out  of  humor,  and  was  always  a  model  of  cheer- 
ful politeness. 

"Art  ready?"  asked  Katherine  Williams,  ap- 
pearing at  the  door  in  a  natty  brown  corduroy 
walking  suit. 

"Can'st  have  the  face  to  ask  the  question  when 
we've  been  waiting  for  you  ten  minutes?"  replied 
Judy. 


A    TEMPEST   IN   A   TEAPOT  49 

It  was  a  glorious  September  day  when  the 
walking  club  from  Queen's  started  on  its  first 
expedition.  The  rules  of  the  club  were  few,  very 
elastic  and  susceptible  to  changes.  It  met  when 
it  could,  walked  until  it  was  tired  and  had  no 
fixed  object  except  that  of  resting  the  eyes  from 
the  printed  page,  relaxing  the  mind  from  its 
arduous  labors  and  accelerating  the  circulation. 
Anyone  who  wanted  to  invite  a  guest  could,  and 
those  who  wished  to  remain  at  home  were  not 
bound  to  go. 

"Did  anybody  decide  where  we  were  going?" 
asked  Molly. 

"Yes,  I  did,"  announced  Margaret.  "Knob 
Ledge  is  our  destination.  It's  the  highest  point 
in  Wellington  County  and  commands  a  most 
wonderful  view  of  the  surrounding  country- 
side  " 

"Dear  me,  you  sound  like  a  guide  book,  Mar- 
garet," put  in  Judy. 

"Professor  Green  is  the  guide  book,"  answered 
Margaret.  "He  told  me  about  it.  You  know 
he  is  the  only  real  walker  at  Wellington.  Twenty 


60        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
miles  is  nothing  to  him  and  Knob  Ledge  is  one 
of  his  favorite  trips." 

"I  hope  that  isn't  twenty  miles,"  said  Jessie 
anxiously. 

"Oh,  no,  it's  barely  six  by  the  short  way  and 
ten  by  the  road.  We  shall  go  by  the  short  way." 

"Isn't  Molly  lovely  to-day?"  whispered  Nance 
to  Judy,  after  the  walking  expedition  had  crossed 
the  campus  and  started  on  its  way  in  good 
earnest. 

Molly  was  a  picture  in  an  old  gray  skirt  and 
a  long  sweater  and  tarn  of  "Wellington  blue," 
knitted  by  one  of  her  devoted  sisters  during  the 
summer. 

"She's  a  dream,"  exclaimed  Judy  with  loyal 
enthusiasm.  "She  glorifies  everything  she  wears. 
Just  an  ordinary  blue  tarn  o'shanter,  exactly  the 
same  shape  and  color  that  a  hundred  other  Wel- 
lington girls  wear,  looks  like  a  halo  on  a  saint's 
head  when  she  wears  it." 

"It's  her  auburn  hair  that's  the  halo,"  said 
Nance. 


A    TEMPEST   IN    A    TEAPOT  51 

"And  her  heavenly  blue  eyes  that  are  saint's 
eyes,"  finished  Judy. 

Molly,  all  unconscious  of  the  admiration  of  her 
friends,  walked  steadily  along  between  Otoyo  and 
Jessie,  a  package  of  sandwiches  in  one  hand  and 
a  long  staff,  picked  up  on  the  road,  in  the  other. 

They  were  not  exactly  out  for  adventure  that 
day,  being  simply  a  jolly  party  of  girls  off  in  the 
woods  to  enjoy  the  last  sunny  days  in  September, 
and  they  were  not  prepared  for  all  the  excite- 
ments which  greeted  them  on  the  way. 

Scarcely  had  they  left  the  path  along,  the  bank 
of  the  lake  and  skirted  the  foot  of  "Round  Head," 
at  the  top  of  which  Molly  and  her  two  chums  had 
once  met  Professor  Green  and  his  brother,  when 
Margaret  Wakefield,  well  in  advance  of  the 
others,  gave  a  wild  scream  and  rushed  madly 
back  into  their  midst.  Trotting  sedately  after 
her  came  an  amiable  looking  cow.  The  creature 
paused  when  she  saw  the  girls,  emitted  the  bo- 
vine call  of  the  cow-mother  separated  from  her 
only  child,  turned  and  trotted  slowly  back. 


52        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"Why,  Margaret,  I  didn't  know  you  were  such 
a  coward,"  began  Jessie  reproachfully. 

"Coward,  indeed,"  answered  the  other  indig- 
nantly. "I  don't  believe  Queen  Boadicea  herself 
in  a  red  sweater  would  have  passed  that  animal. 
Listen  to  the  creature.  She's  begun  mooing  like 
a  foghorn.  I  suppose  she  held  me  personally  re- 
sponsible for  her  loss.  Anyhow,  she  began  chas- 
ing me  and  I  wasn't  going  to  be  gored  to  death 
in  the  flower  of  my  youth." 

There  was  no  arguing  this  fact,  and  several 

daring  spirits,  creeping  along  the  path  until  it 

curved  around  the  hill,  hid  behind  a  clump  of 

trees  and  took  in  the  prospect.    There  stood  the 

cow  with  ears  erect  and  quivering  nostrils.    She 

had  a  suspicious  look  in  her  lustrous  eyes  and  at 

intervals  she  let  out  a  deep  bellow  that  had  a 

hint  of  disaster  in  it  for  all  who  passed  that  way. 

The  brave  spirits  went  back  again. 

"What  are  we  to  do?"  exclaimed  Katherine. 

"If  it  got  out  in  college  that  an  old  cow  kept  ten 

sophomores  from  having  a  picnic,  we'd  never 

hear  the  last  of  it." 


A    TEMPEST   IN   A   TEAPOT  53 

"Unless  we  behave  like  Indian  scouts  and  creep 
along  one  at  a  time,  I  don't  see  what  we  are  to 
do,"  said  Molly.  "If  we  went  further  up  the 
hill,  she'd  see  us  just  the  same  and  if  we  crossed 

the  brook  and  took  to  the  meadow,  we'd  get  stuck 

t 
in  the  swamp." 

"Suppose  we  make  a  run  for  it,"  suggested 
Judy  with  high  courage.  "Just  dash  past  until 
we  reach  that  group  of  trees  over  there." 

"Not  me,"  exclaimed  Jessie,  shaking  her  head 
vigorously.  "Excuse  me,  if  you  please." 

There  was  another  conference  in  low  voices 
behind  the  protecting  clump  of  alder  bushes.  At 
last  the  cow  began  to  ease  her  mental  suffering 
by  nibbling  at  the  damp  green  turf  on  the  bank 
of  the  little  brook. 

"She's  forgotten  all  about  us.  Let's  make  a 
break  for  it,"  cried  Molly.  There  was  a  certain 
stubbornness  in  her  nature  that  made  her  want 
to  finish  anything  she  began  no  matter  whether 
it  was  a  task  or  a  pleasure. 

The  cow  flicked  a  fly  from  her  flank  with  her 
tail  and  went  on  placidly  cropping  grass.  Ap- 


54        MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
parently,   creature   comforts   had   restored   her 
equanimity. 

"One,  two,  three,  run !"  shouted  Judy,  and  the 

ten  students  began  the  race  of  their  lives. 

^^ 
Not  once  did  the  flower  annvit  of  19 —  pause 

IW% 

to  look  back,  and  so  closely  dm  they  stick  to- 
gether, the  strong  helping  the  weak,  that  to  the 
watchers  on  the  hill — and,  alas!  there  were  sev- 
eral of  them — they  resembled  all  together  an 
enormous  animal  of  the  imagination  with  ten 
pairs  of  legs  and  a  coat  of  many  colors.  At  last 
they  fell  down,  one  on  top  of  the  other,  in  a  laugh- 
ing, tumbling  heap,  in  the  protecting  grove  of 
pine  trees,  and  pausing  to  look  back  beheld  the 
ferocious  cow  amiably  swishing  her  tail  as  she 
cropped  the  luscious  turf  on  the  bank  of  the  little 
stream. 

"Asinine  old  thing,"  cried  Margaret.  "She's 
just  an  alarmist  of  the  worst  kind." 

"Who  was  the  alarmist,  did  you  say,  Mar- 
garet?" asked  Edith,  with  a  wicked  smile.  But 
Margaret  made  no  answer,  because,  as  her  close 


A    TEMPEST   IN    A   TEAPOT  55 

friends  well  knew,  she  never  could  stand  being 
teased. 

And  now  the  watchers  on  the  hill,  having  wit- 
nessed the  entire  episode  from  behind  a  granite 
boulder  and  enjoyed  it  to  the  limit  of  their  na- 
tures, proceeded  to  return  to  Wellington  with 
the  story  that  was  too  good  to  keep,  and  Queen's 
girls  went  on  their  way  rejoicing  as  the  strong 
man  who  runs  a  race  and  wins. 

At  two  o'clock,  after  a  long,  hard  climb,  they 
reached  the  ledges.  To  Molly  and  Judy,  the  lead- 
ing spirits  of  the  expedition,  the  beautiful  view 
amply  repaid  their  efforts,  but  there  were  those 
who  were  too  weary  to  enjoy  the  scenery.  Jessie 
was  one  of  these. 

"I'm  not  meant  for  hard  work,"  she  groaned, 
as  she  reposed  on  one  of  the  flat  rocks  which 
gave  the  place  its  name  and  pillowed  her  head 
on  Margaret's  lap. 

They  opened  the  packages  of  luncheon  and  ate 
with  ravenous  appetites,  finishing  off  with  fudge 
and  cheese  sticks.  Then  they  spread  themselves 
on  the  table  rocks  and  regarded  the  scenery  pen- 


56        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 
sively.    Having  climbed  up  at  great  expense  of 
strength  and  effort,  it  was  now  necessary  to  re- 
trace their  footsteps.    The  thought  was  discon- 
certing. 

Edith,  who  never  moved  without  a  book,  pulled 
a  small  edition  oi  Keats  from  her  pocket  and 
began  to  read  aloud: 

"My  heart  aches  and  a  drowsy  numbness  pains 
My  sense,  as  though  of  hemlock  I  had  drunk — " 

A  short  laugh  interrupted  this  scene  of  intel- 
lectual repose.  Edith  paused  and  looked  up, 
annoyed. 

"I  see  nothing  to  laugh  at,"  she  said.  But  the 
faces  of  her  classmates  were  quite  serious. 

"No  one  laughed,"  said  Molly. 

"A  rudely  person  did  laugh,"  announced  Otoyo 
decisively.  "But  not  of  us.  Another  hidden  be- 
hind the  rock." 

The  girls  looked  around  them  uneasily.  There 
was  no  one  in  sight,  apparently,  and  yet  there 
had  been  a  laugh  from  somewhere  close  by.  Com- 
ing to  think  of  it,  they  had  all  heard  it. 


A    TEMPEST   IN   A   TEAPOT  57 

"I  think  we'd  better  be  going,"  said  Margaret, 
rising  hastily.  "We  can  see  the  view  on  the  other 
side  some  other  day." 

Twice  that  day  Margaret,  the  coming  suf- 
fragette, had  proved  herself  lacking  in  a  certain 
courage  generally  attributed  to  the  new  and  in- 
dependent woman. 

"Come  on,"  she  continued,  irritably.  "Don't 
stop  to  gather  up  those  sandwiches.  We  must 
hurry." 

Perhaps  they  were  all  of  them  a  little  fright- 
ened, but  nobody  was  quite  so  openly  and  shame- 
lessly scared  as  President  Wakefield.  They  had 
seized  their  sweaters  and  were  about  to  follow 
her  down  the  steep  path,  when  another  laugh 
was  heard,  and  suddenly  a  strange  man  rushed 
from  behind  one  of  the  large  boulders  and  seized 
Margaret  by  the  arm. 

The  President  gave  one  long,  despairing  shriek 
that  waked  the  echoes,  while  the  other  girls,  too 
frightened  to  move,  crouched  together  in  a  trem- 
bling group. 

Then  the  little  Japanese  bounded  from  their 


68        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

midst  with  the  most  surprising  agility,  seized  the 
man  by  his  thumb  and  with  a  lightning  move- 
ment of  the  arm  struck  him  under  the  chin. 

With  a  cry  of  intense  pain,  the  tramp,  for  such 
he  appeared  to  be,  fell  back  against  the  rock,  his 
black  slouch  hat  fell  off,  and  a  quantity  of  dark 
hair  tumbled  down  on  his  shoulders.  Judith 
Blount,  looking  exceedingly  ludicrous  in  a  heavy 
black  mustache,  stood  before  them. 

"Oh,  how  you  hurt  me,"  she  cried,  turning 
angrily  on  Otoyo. 

Otoyo  shrank  back  in  amazement. 

"Pardon,"  she  said  timidly.  "I  did  not  know 
the  rudely  man  was  a  woman." 

The  girls  were  now  treated  to  the  rare  spec- 
tacle of  Margaret  Wakefield  in  a  rage.  The  God- 
dess of  War  herself  could  not  have  been  more 
majestic  in  her  anger,  and  her  choice  of  words 
was  wonderful  as  she  emptied  the  vials  of  her 
wrath  on  the  head  of  the  luckless  Judith.  The 
Williams  sisters  sat  down  on  a  rock,  prepared 
to  enjoy  the  splendid  exhibition  and  the  discom- 
fiture of  Judith  Blount,  who  for  once  had  gone 


A    TEMPEST   IN   A   TEAPOT  59 

too  far  in  her  practical  joking.  Molly  withdrew 
somewhat  from  the  scene.  Anger  always  fright- 
ened her,  but  she  felt  that  Margaret  was  quite 
justified  in  what  she  said. 

"How  dare  you  masquerade  in  those  disrepu- 
table clothes  and  frighten  us?"  Margaret  thun- 
dered out.  "Do  you  think  such  behavior  will  be 
tolerated  for  a  moment  at  a  college  of  the  stand- 
ing of  Wellington  University?  Are  you  aware 
that  some  of  us  might  have  been  seriously  in- 
jured by  what  you  would  call,  I  suppose,  a  prac- 
tical joke?  Is  this  your  idea  of  amusement?  It 
is  not  mine.  Do  you  get  any  enjoyment  from 
such  a  farce?" 

At  last  Margaret  paused  for  breath,  but  for 
once  Judith  had  nothing  to  say.  She  hung  her 
head  shamefacedly  and  the  girls  who  were  with 
her,  whoever  they  were,  hung  back  as  if  they 
would  feign  have  their  share  in  the  affair  kept 
secret. 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Judith  with  unusual  humil- 
ity. "I  didn't  realize  it  was  going  to  frighten 
you  so  much.  You  see,  I  don't  look  much  like 


60        MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

a  man  in  my  gymnasium  suit.  Of  course  the 
mackintosh  and  hat  did  look  rather  realistic,  I'll 
admit.  When  we  saw  you  run  from  the  cow 
this  morning,  it  was  so  perfectly  ludicrous,  we 
decided  to  have  some  fun.  I  put  on  these  togs 
and  we  got  a  vehicle  and  drove  around  by  the 
Exmoor  road.  I'm  sorry  if  you  were  scared, 
but  I  think  I  came  out  the  worst.  My  thumb  is 
sprained  and  I  know  my  neck  will  be  black  and 
blue  by  to-morrow." 

"I  advise  you  to  give  up  playing  practical  jokes 
hereafter,"  said  the  unrelenting  Goddess  of  War. 
"If  your  thumb  is  sprained,  it's  your  own  fault." 

Judith  flashed  a  black  glance  at  her. 

"When  I  lower  myself  to  make  you  an  apol- 
ogy," she  ejaculated,  "I  should  think  you'd  have 
the  courtesy  to  accept  it,"  and  with  that  she 
walked  swiftly  around  the  edge  of  the  rock, 
where  she  joined  her  confederates,  while  the 
Queen's  girls  demurely  took  their  way  down  the 
side  of  the  hill. 

"Was  my  deed  wrongly,  then?"  asked  Otoyo, 


A   TEMPEST   IN   A   TEAPOT  61 

innocently,  feeling  somehow  that  she  had  been 
the  cause  of  the  great  outburst 

"No,  indeed,  child,  your  deed  was  rightly," 
laughed  Margaret.  "And  I'm  going  to  take  jiu 
jitsu  lessons  from  you  right  away.  If  I  could 
twirl  a  robber  around  the  thumb  like  that  and 
hit  a  cow  under  her  chin,  I  don't  think  I'd  be 
such  a  coward." 

Everybody  burst  out  laughing  and  Molly  felt 
greatly  relieved  that  harmony  was  once  more 
established.  The  walk  ended  happily,  and  by 
the  time  they  had  reached  home,  Judith  Blount 
had  been  relegated  to  an  unimportant  place  in 
their  minds. 


CHAPTER  V. 
AN  UNWIWJNG  EAVESDROPPER. 

Busy  days  followed  for  Molly.  She  had  been 
made  chairman  of  the  committee  on  decoration 
for  the  sophomore-freshman  reception  along 
with  all  her  many  other  duties,  and  had  entered 
into  it  as  conscientiously  as  she  went  into  every- 
thing. Some  days  before  the  semi-official  party 
for  the  gathering  of  autumn  foliage  and  ever- 
greens, Chairman  Molly  and  Judy  had  a  consul- 
tation. 

"What  we  want  is  something  different,"  Judy 
remarked,  and  Molly  smiled,  remembering  that 
her  friend's  greatest  fear  in  life  was  to  appear 
commonplace. 

"Caroline  Brinton  will  want  cheese  cloth,  of 
course,"  said  Molly,  "but  I  think  she'll  be  out- 
voted if  we  can  only  talk  to  the  committee  be- 
forehand. My  plan  is  to  mass  all  the  greens 

62 


AN   UNWILLING   EAVESDEOPPER          63 

around  the  pillars  and  hang  strings  of  Japanese 
lanterns  between  the  galleries." 

"And,"  went  on  fanciful  Judy,  who  adored 
decoration,  "let's  make  a  big  primrose  and  violet 
banner  exactly  the  same  size  as  the  Wellington 
banner  and  hang  them  from  the  center  of  the 
gymnasium,  one  on  each  side  of  the  chandelier." 

A  meeting  of  the  class  was  called  to  consider 
the  question  of  the  banner  and  it  was  decided  not 
only  to  have  the  largest  class  banner  ever  seen 
at  Wellington,  but  to  give  the  entire  class  a  hand 
in  the  making  of  it.  The  money  was  to  be  raised 
partly  by  subscription  and  partly  by  an  enter- 
tainment to  be  given  later. 

The  girls  were  very  proud  of  the  gorgeous 
pennant  when  it  was  completed.  Every  sopho- 
more had  lent  a  helping  hand  in  its  construction, 
which  had  taken  several  hours  a  day  for  the  bet- 
ter part  of  a  week.  It  was  of  silk,  one  side  laven- 
der and  the  other  side  primrose  color.  On  the 
lavender  side  "WELLINGTON"  in  yellow  silk  let- 
ters had  been  briar-stitched  on  by  two  skillful 


64        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

sophomores  and  on  the  primrose  side  was  "19— 
in  lavender. 

The  Wellington  banner,  a  gift  from  the  alum- 
nae, was  also  of  silk  in  the  soft  blue  which  every 
Wellington  girl  loved.  It  was  necessary  to  ob- 
tain a  special  permission  from  President  Walker 
to  use  this  flag,  which  was  brought  out  only  on 
state  occasions,  and  it  devolved  on  Molly,  as 
chairman,  to  make  the  formal  request  for  her 
class.  That  this  intrepid  class  of  sophomores 
was  the  first  ever  to  ask  to  use  the  banner  had  not 
occurred  to  her  when  she  knocked  at  the  door 
of  the  President's  office. 

Miss  Walker  would  see  her  in  ten  minutes,  she 
was  told  by  Miss  Maxwell,  the  President's  sec- 
retary, and  she  sat  down  in  the  long  drawing 
room  to  await  her  summons.  It  was  a  pleasant 
place  in  which  to  linger,  Molly  thought,  as  she 
leaned  back  in  a  beautiful  old  arm  chair  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  which  had  come  from  a  Flor- 
entine palace.  Most  of  the  furniture  and  orna- 
ments in  the  room  had  been  brought  over  from 
Italy  by  Miss  Walker  at  various  times.  There 


AN   UNWILLING   EAVESDROPPER          65 

were  mirrors  and  high-backed  carved  chairs 
from  Venice.  Over  the  mantel  was  a  beautiful 
frieze  of  singing  children,  and  at  one  side  was 
a  photograph,  larger  even  than  Mary  Stewart's, 
of  the  "Primavera";  on  the  other  side  of  the 
mantel  was  a  lovely  round  Madonna  which  Molly 
thought  also  might  be  a  Botticelli. 

As  her  eyes  wandered  from  one  object  to  an- 
other in  the  charming  room,  her  tense  nerves  be- 
gan to  relax.  At  last  her  gaze  rested  on  the  pho- 
tograph of  a  pretty,  dark-haired  girl  in  an  old- 
fashioned  black  dress.  There  was  something 
very  appealing  about  the  sweet  face  looking  out 
from  the  carved  gilt  frame,  a  certain  peaceful 
calmness  in  her  expression.  And  peace  had  not 
been  infused  into  Molly's  daily  life  lately.  What 
a  rush  things  had  been  in;  every  moment  of  the 
day  occupied.  There  were  times  when  it  was  so 
overwhelming,  this  college  life,  that  she  felt  she 
could  not  breast  the  great  wave  of  duties  and 
pleasures  that  surged  about  her.  And  now,  at 
last,  in  the  subdued  soft  light  of  President 
Walker's  drawing  room  she  found  herself  alone 


66  MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
and  in  delightful,  perfect  stillness.  How  pol- 
ished the  floors  were !  They  were  like  dim  mir- 
rors in  which  the  soft  colors  of  old  hangings 
were  reflected.  Two  Venetian  glass  vases  on 
the  mantel  gave  out  an  opalescent  gleam  in  the 
twilight. 

"Some  day  I  shall  have  a  room  like  this," 
Molly  thought,  closing  her  eyes.  "I  shall  wear 
peacock  blue  and  old  rose  dresses  like  the  Flor- 
entine ladies  and  do  my  hair  in  a  gold  net " 

Her  heavy  eyelids  fluttered  and  drooped,  her 
hands  slipped  from  the  arms  of  her  chair  into 
her  lap  and  her  breathing  came  regularly  and 
even  like  a  child's.  She  was  sound  asleep,  and 
while  she  slept  Miss  Maxwell  peeped  into  the 
room.  Seeing  no  one,  apparently,  in  the  dim 
light,  she  went  out  again.  Evidently  the  sopho- 
more had  not  waited,  she  decided,  so  she  said 
nothing  to  Miss  Walker  about  it. 

Half  an  hour  slipped  noiselessly  by;  the  sun 
set.  For  a  few  minutes  the  western  window  re- 
flected a  deep  crimson  light;  then  the  shadows 
deepened  and  the  room  was  almost  dark. 


AN   UNWILLING   EAVESDROPPER          67 

"Never  mind  the  lights,  Mary.  I'll  see  Miss 
Walker  in  her  office  at  five  thirty,"  said  a  voice 
at  the  door.  "She  expects  me  and  I'll  wait  here 
until  it's  time." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  answered  the  maid. 

Someone  came  softly  into  the  room  and  sat 
down  near  the  window,  well  removed  from  the 
sleeping  Molly.  Again  the  stillness  was  un- 
broken and  the  young  girl,  sitting  in  the  antique 
chair  in  which  noble  lords  and  ladies  and  perhaps 
cardinals  and  archbishops  had  sat,  began  to 
dream.  She  thought  the  dark-haired  girl  in  the 
photograph  was  standing  beside  her.  She  wore 
a  long,  straight,  black  dress  that  seemed  to  fade 
off  into  the  shadows.  Molly  remembered  the 
face  perfectly.  There  was  a  sorrowful  look  on 
it  now.  Then  suddenly  the  sadness  changed  in- 
explicably and  the  face  was  the  face  in  the  photo- 
graph, the  peaceful  calmness  returned  and  the 
eyes  looked  straight  into  Molly's,  as  they  did 
from  the  picture. 

Molly  started  slightly  and  opened  her  eyes. 

"I  must  have  been  asleep,"  she  thought. 


68        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"My  dear  Edwin,"  Miss  Walker's  voice  was 
saying,  "this  is  terrible.  I  am  so  shocked  and 
sorry.  What's  to  be  done?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  haven't  been  able  to  think 
yet,  it  was  all  so  sudden.  I  had  just  heard  when 
I  telephoned  you  half  an  hour  ago.  It's  a  great 
blow  to  the  family.  Grace  is  with  them  now, 
and  she's  a  tower  of  strength,  you  know." 

"What's  to  be  done  about  Judith?  She  was 
getting  on  so  well  this  year.  I  think  her  pun- 
ishment last  winter  did  her  good." 

"She  did  appear  to  be  in  a  better  frame  of 
mind,"  said  Professor  Green  drily. 

"Is  she  to  be  told  at  once?" 

"She  has  to  be  told  about  the  money,  of  course, 
but  the  disgraceful  part  is  to  be  kept  from  her 
as  much  as  possible." 

Molly's  heart  began  to  beat.  What  should  she 
do?  Make  her  presence  known  to  Professor 
Green  and  Miss  Walker?  But  how  very  em- 
barrassing that  would  be,  to  break  suddenly  into 
this  intimate  conversation  and  confess  that  she 
had  overheard  a  family  secret. 


AN   UNWILLING   EAVESDROPPER          69 

"The  thing  has  been  kept  quiet  so  far,"  went 
on  the  Professor.  "The  newspapers,  strange  to 
say,  have  not  got  hold  of  it,  but  it's  going  to  take 
every  cent  the  family  can  get  together  to  pull 
out  of  the  hole.  Hardly  half  a  dozen  persons 
outside  the  family  know  the  real  state  of  the 
case.  I  have  taken  you  into  my  confidence  be- 
cause you  are  an  old  and  intimate  friend  of  the 
family  and  because  we  must  reach  some  decision 
about  Judith.  Her  mother  wants  her  to  stay 
right  where  she  is  now,  just  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  Judith  has  always  been  very  proud 
and  her  mother  thinks  it  would  be  too  much  of 
a  come-down  for  her  to  live  in  cheaper  quarters." 

"Nonsense!"  exclaimed  Miss  Walker.  "On 
the  contrary,  I  think  it  would  do  Judith  good  to 
associate  with  girls  who  are  not  so  well  off.  Put 
her  with  a  group  of  clever,  hard-working  girls 
like  the  ones  at  Queen's,  for  instance." 

Molly's  heart  gave  a  leap.  How  much  she 
would  like  to  tell  the  girls  this  compliment  the 
President  had  paid  them!  Then  again  the  em- 
barrassment of  her  position  overwhelmed  her. 


70        MOLLY  BKOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
She  was  about  to  force  herself  to  rise  and  con- 
fess that  she  had  been  an  unwitting  eavesdropper 
when  she  heard  the  Professor's  voice  from  the 
door  saying : 

"Well,  you  advise  me  to  do  nothing  this  eve- 
ning? Richard  is  going  to  call  me  up  again  in 
an  hour  on  the  long  distance  in  the  village  for 
the  sake  of  privacy.  If  he  agrees  with  you,  I'll 
wait  until  to-morrow." 

"Where's  Mr.  Blount  now?" 

"They  think  he's  on  his  way  to  South  Amer- 
ica. You  see,  Richard,  in  some  way,  found  out 
about  the  fake  mining  deal  and  the  family  is  try- 
ing to  get  together  enough  money  to  pay  back 
the  stockholders.  There  are  not  many  local 
people  involved.  Most  of  it  was  sold  in  the  West 
and  South  and  we  hope  to  refund  all  the  money 
in  the  course  of  time.  It's  nearly  half  a  million, 
you  know,  and  while  the  Blounts  have  a  good  deal 
of  real  estate,  it  takes  time  to  raise  money  on 
it." 

"What  did  you  say  the  name  of  the  mine  was  ? 
I  have  heard,  but  it  has  slipped  my  memory." 


AN    UNWILLING   EAVESDROPPER          71 

'The  Square  Deal  Mine' ;  a  bad  name,  con- 
sidering it  was  about  the  crookedest  deal  ever 
perpetrated." 

Molly  started  so  violently  that  the  Venetian 
vases  on  the  mantel  quivered  and  the  little  table 
on  which  stood  the  picture  in  the  gilt  frame 
trembled  like  an  aspen. 

"The  Square  Deal  Mine!"  Had  she  heard 
anything  else  but  that  name  all  summer?  Had 
not  her  mother,  on  the  advice  of  an  old  friend, 
invested  every  cent  she  could  rake  and  scrape 
together,  except  the  fund  for  her  own  college 
expenses,  in  that  very  mine?  And  everybody  in 
the  neighborhood  had  done  the  same  thing. 

"It's  a  sure  thing,  Mrs.  Brown,"  Colonel  Gray 
had  told  her  mother  .  "I'm  going  to  put  in  all  I 
have  because  an  old  friend  at  the  head  of  one 
of  the  oldest  and  most  reliable  firms  in  the 
country  is  backing  it." 

The  voices  grew  muffled  as  the  President  and 
Professor  Green  moved  slowly  down  the  hall. 
Molly  felt  ill  and  tired.  Would  the  Blounts  be 
able  to  pay  back  the  money?  Suppose  they  were 


72        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
not  and  she  had  to  leave  college  while  JuditK 
was  to  be  allowed  to  finish  her  education  and 
live  in  the  most  expensive  rooms  in  Wellington. 

She  pressed  her  lips  together.  Such  thoughts 
were  unworthy  of  her  and  she  tried  to  brush 
them  out  of  her  mind. 

"Poor  Judith !"  she  said  to  herself. 

The  President's  footsteps  sounded  on  the 
stairs.  She  paused  on  the  landing,  cleared  her 
throat  and  mounted  the  second  flight. 

How  dark  it  had  grown.  A  feeling  of  sicken- 
ing fear  came  over  Molly,  and  suddenly  she 
rushed  blindly  into  the  hall  and  out  of  the  house 
without  once  looking  behind  her.  Down  the  steps 
she  flew,  and,  in  her  headlong  flight,  collided 
with  Professor  Green,  who  had  evidently  started 
to  go  in  one  direction  and,  changing  his  mind, 
turned  to  go  toward  the  village. 

"Why,  Miss  Brown,  has  anything  frightened 
you?  You  are  trembling  like  a  leaf." 

"I — I  was  only  hurrying,"  she  replied  lamely. 

"Have  you  been  to  see  the  President?" 


AN   TOWILLIXG   EAVESDROPPER          73 

"I  didn't  see  her.  It  was  too  late,"  answered 
Molly  evasively. 

They  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  moment. 

"I  am  going  down  to  the  village  for  a  long- 
distance message.  May  I  see  you  to  your  door 
on  my  way?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Molly,  half  inclined  to  confide 
to  the  Professor  that  she  had  just  overheard  his 
conversation.  But  a  kind  of  shyness  closed  her 
lips.  They  began  talking  of  other  things,  chief- 
ly of  the  little  Japanese,  Molly's  pupil. 

At  the  door  of  Queen's,  the  Professor  took 
her  hand  and  looked  down  at  her  kindly. 

"You  were  frightened  at  something,"  he  said, 
smiling  gravely.  "Confess,  now,  were  you  not?" 

"There  was  nothing  to  frighten  me,"  she  an- 
swered. "Did  you  ever  see  a  picture,"  she  con- 
tinued irrelevantly,  "a  photograph  in  a  gilt  frame 
on  a  little  table  in  the  President's  drawing  room  ? 
It's  a  picture  of  a  slender  girl  in  an  old-fashioned 
black  dress.  Her  hair  is  dark  and  her  face  is 
rather  pale-looking." 


74        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"Oh,  yes.  That's  a  photograph  of  Miss  Elaine 
Walker,  President  Walker's  sister." 

"Where  is  she  now?"  asked  Molly. 

"She  died  in  that  house  some  twenty-five  years 
ago.  You  know,  Miss  Walker  succeeded  her 
father  as  President  and  they  have  always  lived 
there.  Miss  Elaine  was  in  her  senior  year  when 
she  had  typhoid  fever  and  died.  It  was  a  good 
deal  of  a  blow,  I  believe,  to  the  family  and  to 
the  entire  University.  She  was  very  popular  and 
very  talented.  She  wrote  charming  poetry.  I 
have  read  some  of  it.  No  doubt  she  would  have 
done  great  things  if  she  had  lived." 

"After  all,"  Molly  argued  with  herself,  "I 
went  to  sleep  looking  at  her  photograph.  It  was 
the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  to  dream 
about  it.  But  why  did  she  look  so  sorrowful  and 
then  so  hopeful?  I  can't  forget  her  face." 

Once  again  she  was  on  the  point  of  speaking 
to  Professor  Green  about  the  mine,  and  once 
again  she  checked  her  confidence.  The  cautious 
Nance  had  often  said  to  her:  "If  there's  any 


AN   UNWILLING   EAVESDEOPPEE          75 

doubt  about  mentioning  a  thing,  I  never  mention 
it." 

"By  the  way,  Miss  Brown,  I  wonder  if  there 
are  any  vacant  rooms  here  at  Queen's?" 

"Yes,"  said  Molly,  "there  happens  to  be  a  sin- 
gleton. It  was  to  have  been  taken  by  a  junior 
who  broke  her  arm  or  something  and  couldn't 
come  back  to  college  this  year.  Why?  Have 
you  any  more  little  Japs  for  me  to  tutor?" 

"No,  but  I  was  thinking  there  might  have  to 
be  some  changes  a  little  later,  and  Miss  Blount, 
my  cousin,  would  perhaps  be  looking  for — er — 
less  commodious  quarters.  But  don't  mention  it, 
please.  It  may  not  be  necessary." 

"I  may  have  to  make  some  changes  myself  for 
the  same  reason,"  thought  poor  Molly,  but  she 
said  nothing  except  a  trembly,  shaky  "good- 
night," which  made  the  Professor  look  into  her 
face  closely  and  then  stand  watching  her  as  she 
hastened  up  the  steps  and  was  absorbed  by  the 
shadowy  interior  of  Queen's  still  unlighted  hall- 
way. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

TWO  LONG  DISTANCE  CALLS. 

The  President  readily  granted  her  gracious 
permission  for  the  sophomores  to  use  the  Well- 
ington alumnae  banner.  She  was  pleased  at  the 
class  spirit  which  had  engendered  the  request  and 
which  had  also  prompted  the  sophomores  to  make 
a  banner  of  their  own. 

With  reverent  hands  the  young  girls  hoisted 
the  two  splendid  pennants  on  the  evening  of  the 
reception.  And  another  unusual  distinction  was 
granted  this  extraordinary  class  of  19 — .  The 
President  and  several  of  the  faculty  appeared 
that  evening  in  the  gallery  to  view  the  effect. 
Never  before  in  the  memory  of  students  had 
Prexy  attended  a  sophomore-freshman  ball. 

"They  have  certainly  made  the  place  attrac- 
tive," said  the  President,  looking  down  between 
the  interstices  of  garlands  of  Japanese  lanterns 

76 


TWO    LOXG    DISTANCE    CALLS  77 

on  the  scene  of  whirling  dancers  below.  "The 
banners  are  really  beautiful.  I  feel  quite  proud 
of  my  sophomores  this  evening." 

The  sophomores  were  proud  of  themselves  and 
worked  hard  to  make  the  freshmen  have  a  good 
time  and  feel  at  home.  Molly,  remembering  her 
own  timidity  of  the  year  before,  took  care  that 
there  were  no  wall  flowers  this  gala  evening. 

She  had  invited  Madeleine  Petit,  a  lonely  little 
Southern  girl,  who  had  a  room  over  the  post 
office  in  the  village  and  was  working  her  way 
through  college  somehow,.  In  spite  of  her  own 
depleted  purse,  Molly  had  sent  Madeleine  a  bunch 
of  violets  and  had  hired  a  carriage  for  the  eve- 
ning. As  for  the  little  freshman,  she  was  ecstatic 
with  pleasure.  She  never  dreamed  that  her 
sophomore  escort  was  nearly  as  poor  as  she  was. 
People  of  Molly's  type  never  look  poor.  The 
richness  of  her  coloring,  her  red  gold  hair  and 
deep  blue  eyes  and  a  certain  graciousness  of 
manner  overcame  all  deficiencies  in  the  style  and 
material  of  her  lavender  organdy  frock. 

But,  in  spite  of  her  glowing  cheeks  and  out- 


78        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

ward  gaiety,  Molly  was  far  from  being  happy 
that  night.  No  word  had  come  to  her  from  her 
family  all  the  week,  although  they  were  the  most 
prolific  letter  writers,  all  of  them.  No  doubt  they 
hesitated  for  a  while  to  let  her  know  the  truth 
about  the  Square  Deal  Mine.  Molly  was  pre- 
pared for  anything;  prepared  to  give  up  college 
at  mid-years  and  get  a  position  to  teach  school 
in  the  country  somewhere;  prepared  to  look  the 
worst  in  the  face  bravely.  But  Wellington  was 
like  a  second  home  to  her  now.  She  loved  its 
twin  gray  towers,  its  classic  quadrangle  and 
beautiful  cloisters;  its  spacious  campus  shaded 
with  elm  trees. 

How  dear  these  things  had  grown  to  her  now 
that  the  thought  of  leaving  them  forced  its  way 
into  her  mind! 

She  was  debating  these  questions  inwardly,  as 
she  gallantly  led  her  partner  over  to  the  lemon- 
ade table,  where  Mary  Stewart,  in  a  beautiful 
liberty  dress  of  pigeon  blue  that  matched  her 
eyes,  was  presiding  with  Judith  Blount  and  two 
other  juniors. 


TWO   LONG   DISTANCE   CALLS  79 

"Why,  Molly  Brown,"  exclaimed  Mary,  "in 
spite  of  all  your  glowingness,  you  don't  seem 
quite  like  yourself  this  evening.  Has  anything 
happened  to  roughen  your  gentle  disposition? 
No  bad  news  from  home,  I  hope?" 

"Oh,  no,"  returned  Molly.  "No  news  at  all. 
I  haven't  heard  all  week." 

Judith,  who  still  had  a  grudge  against  Queen's 
girls,  although  she  was  endeavoring  to  overcome 
it,  here  remarked : 

"Why,  I  think  you  are  looking  particularly 
well  to-night,  Molly.  Such  a  becoming  dress!" 

Molly  flushed  as  she  glanced  hastily  down  at 
her  two-year-old  organdy.  Mary  Stewart  put  a 
hand  over  her  cold,  slim  fingers. 

"You  always  wear  becoming  dresses,  Molly, 
dear.  In  fact,  they  are  so  becoming  that  no  one 
ever  looks  at  the  dress  for  looking  at  you." 

Molly  smiled  and  pressed  her  friend's  hand  in 
return.  She  was  wondering  if  Judith  Blount 
would  learn  to  curb  her  tongue  when  she  had  to 
curb  her  expenses. 

"I  want  you  to  meet  Miss  Petit,"  she  said,  in- 


80        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

troducing  the  little  freshman  to  the  two  older 
girls. 

Mary  Stewart  shook  hands  kindly  and  Judith 
bowed  distantly.  Certainly  Judith  was  in  a  bad 
humor  that  night. 

"How  do  you  like  Wellington?"  asked  Mary 
of  Miss  Petit  by  way  of  making  conversation. 

"I  think  it's  jus'  lovely,"  drawled  the  little 
Southerner  with  her  inimitable  Louisiana  accent. 
"I  never  danced  on  a  better  flo'  befo'  in  all  my 
life." 

Mary  Stewart  smiled.  The  soft,  melodious 
voice  was  music  to  her  ears. 

"You  live  in  the  Quadrangle,  don't  you?  I 
think  I  saw  you  there  the  other  day,"  Continued 
Mary. 

"Oh,  no,  I  reckon  you  saw  some  other  girl.  I 
live  over  the  post  office  in  the  village." 

"She  has  a  charming  room,"  broke  in  Molly, 
when  she  was  interrupted  by  a  stifled  laugh. 
Looking  up  quickly,  they  were  confronted  with 
Judith  and  one  of  her  boon  companions,  their 
faces  crimson  with  suppressed  laughter. 


TWO   LOXG    DISTANCE    CALLS  81 

Miss  Petit  regarded  the  two  juniors  with  a 
kind  of  gentle  amazement.  Then,  without  the 
slightest  embarrassment,  she  said  to  Mary  and 
Molly: 

"What  lovely  manners  some  of  the  Welling- 
ton girls  have!" 

At  this  uncomfortable  juncture  Edith  Williams 
sailed  up. 

"This  is  my  dance  isn't  it,  Mademoiselle 
Petite?  And  while  we  dance,  I  want  you  to  talk 
all  the  time  so  that  my  ears  can  drink  in  your 
liquid  tones.  Have  you  heard  her  speak,  Miss 
Stewart?  Isn't  it  beautiful?  It's  like  the  call  of 
the  wood-pigeon,  so  soft  and  persuasive  and  de- 
licious." 

"Now,  you're  flattering  me,"  said  little  Miss 
Petit,  "but  I'm  glad  it  doesn't  make  you  laugh, 
anyhow,"  and  she  floated  off  in  the  arms  of  the 
tall  Edith  as  gracefully  as  a  fluffy  little  cloud 
carried  along  by  the  breezes. 

"Isn't  she  sweet?"  said  Molly  presently.  "And 
you  can't  imagine  what  she  is  doing  to  make 
both  ends  meet  here.  She  won  a  scholarship 


82  MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
which  pays  her  tuition,  but  she  has  to  earn  the 
money  for  board  and  clothes  and  all  the  rest. 
She  washes  dishes  at  a  boarding  house  for  her 
dinners  and  cooks  her  own  breakfasts  in  her 
room  and  eats,  well,  any  old  thing,  for  her  lunch. 
On  her  door  is  a  sign  that  says,  'Darning,  copy- 
ing, pressing  and  fine  laundry  work,  shampooing 
and  manicuring.'  It  makes  me  feel  awfully 
ashamed  of  my  small  efforts." 

"Is  it  possible?"  exclaimed  Mary.  "How  can 
I  help  her,  Molly,  without  her  knowing  it?  She 
seems  to  be  a  proud  little  thing." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  Give  her  some  jabots  to 
do  up  or  have  your  hair  shampooed.  She  does 
hand-painting  on  china,  too,  but  I  don't  think  you 
could  quite  go  her  pink  rose  designs.  She'll  out- 
grow hand-painted  china  in  another  year,  just  as 
I  outgrew  framed  lithographs  and  antimacassars 
in  one  evening,  after  seeing  your  rooms  in  the 
Quadrangle." 

"By  the  way,  Molly,  have  you  invited  anyone 
for  the  Glee  Club  concert  yet  ?" 


TWO    LOXG    DISTANCE    CALLS  83 

"No,  because  I  didn't  know  anyone  well 
enough  to  ask  except  Lawrence  Upton  from  Ex- 
moor,  and  Judith  has  already  asked  him." 

"Good,"  said  Mary.  "Then,  will  you  do  me  a 
favor?  Brother  Willie  is  coming  down  to  the 
concert  and  expects  to  bring  two  friends.  Will 
you  take  one  of  them  under  your  wing?" 

Molly  was  only  too  delighted  to  be  of  service 
to  the  friend  who  had  done  so  much  for  her. 

"It  will  be  a  pleasure  and  a  joy,"  she  said,  as 
she  hastened  away  to  find  her  small  partner  for 
the  next  waltz. 

The  "Jokes  and  Croaks"  stage  of  the  sopho- 
more-freshman reception  had  been  reached,  and 
Katherine  Williams,  speaking  through  the  mega- 
phone, was  saying: 

"An  art  contribution  from  the  juniors,  with 
accompanying  verse  : 

"  'I  never  saw  a  purple  cow, 
And  never  hope  to  see  one; 
But  this  I  know,  I  vow,  I  trow: 
I'd  rather  see  than  be  one.' 


84        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

While  Katherine  read  the  verse,  another  girl 
held  up  a  large  picture  entitled  "The  Flight  of 
the  Royal  Family."  In  the  foreground  was  a 
little  purple  cow  grazing  on  purple  turf,  and  in 
the  background,  running  at  full  speed,  with  every 
indication  of  extreme  terror  on  their  faces,  were 
a  dozen  queens,  wearing  gold  crowns  and  laven- 
der and  primrose  robes. 

Hardly  a  girl  at  Wellington  but  had  heard  of 
the  absurd  adventure  of  the  Queen's  girls,  and 
a  tremendous  laugh  shook  the  walls  of  the  gym- 
nasium. In  the  midst  of  this  uproar,  someone 
touched  Molly  on  the  shoulder.  It  was  a  junior 
known  to  her  only  by  sight,  who  whispered : 

"You're  wanted  on  the  tele[  >horie." 

Now,  all  telegrams  to  Wellington  College  were 
received  at  the  telegraph  office  in  the  village  and 
telephoned  over,  and  when  Molly  was  notified 
that  there  was  a  message  for  her,  she  felt  in- 
stinctively that  it  was  a  telegram  from  home; 
and  they  would  only  telegraph  bad  news,  she  was 
certain. 

Her  face  was  pale  and  her  heart  thumping  as 


TWO    LOXG    DISTANCE    CALLS  85 

she  hurried  out  of  the  gymnasium.  Nance  and 
Judy  rose  and  followed  her.  If  anything  was 
the  matter  with  their  beloved  friend,  they  were 
determined  to  share  her  trouble. 

Molly  hastened  to  the  telephone  booths  in  the 
main  corridor. 

"Is  it  a  telegram  ?"  she  asked  the  young  woman 
in  charge  of  the  switchboard;  for,  in  the  last 
few  years  telephones  had  been  installed  in  all 
the  houses  of  the  faculty  and  their  respective 
offices  as  well,  thereby  saving  many  steps  and 
much  time. 

"Hello !  Long  distance?"  called  the  girl,  with- 
out answering  Molly's  question.  "Here's  your 
party.  Booth  No.  2,"  she  ordered. 

The  operator  had  very  little  patience  with  col- 
lege girls,  and  this  Adamless  Eden  palled  on  her 
city-bred  soul. 

"Hello!"  said  Molly. 

Then  came  a  small,  thin  voice,  an  immense  dis- 
tance away,  but  strangely  familiar. 

"Is  this  Miss  Molly  Brown  of  Kentucky?" 

"Yes.    Who  is  this?" 


86        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"This  is  Richard  Blount.  Have  you  forgotten 
me?" 

"Of  course  not." 

"Is  your  mother  Mrs.  Mildred  Carmichael 
Brown,  of  Carmichael  Station,  Kentucky  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Um!  I  suppose  you  think  it's  very  strange, 
Miss  Brown,  my  asking  you  this  question,"  called 
the  thin,  far-away  voice.  "I  had  a  very  good 
reason  for  asking  it.  Have  you  heard  from 
home  lately?" 

"Not  for  a  week.  Is  anything  the  matter  with 
my  family  besides  the " 

"No,  no,  nothing  that  I  know  of." 

"Is  it  about  the  mine?" 

"Yes,  but  you  are  not  to  worry.  You  under- 
stand, you  are  not  to  worry  one  instant.  Every- 
thing will  come  out  all  right." 

"It  was  nearly  ten  thousand  dollars,"  said 
Molly,  almost  sobbing;  "our  house  and  garden 
and  the  rest  of  the  apple  orchard  that  was  send- 
ing me  to  college — "  Here  she  broke  down  com- 


TWO   LONG   DISTANCE   CALLS  87 

pletely.  "I  may  have  to  give  up  all  this — I 
may " 

"Now,  Miss  Molly,  you  mustn't  cry.  You 
make  me  feel  like  the  very — very  unhappy,  way 
off  here." 

"Five  minutes  up,"  called  the  voice  of  the  ex- 
change. 

"Good-by,  good-by,"  called  Molly.  "I'm  sorry 
I  cried,  Mr.  Blount." 

Poor  man!  It  was  all  terribly  hard  on  him, 
and  it  was  cruel  of  her  to  have  given  way,  but 
it  had  come  so  unawares! 

From  a  corner  of  her  eye,  she  could  see  her 
friends  waiting  anxiously  outside  the  booth.  She 
pretended  to  be  writing  something  on  the  tele- 
phone pad  with  a  stubby  pencil  tied  to  a  string, 
until  she  recovered  her  composure. 

"What's  the  matter  ?"  demanded  the  two  girls 
as  she  emerged  from  the  booth. 

"It  was  just  a  long  distance  from  Richard 
Blount,"  said  Molly,  not  knowing  what  else  to 
say. 


88        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

"I  didn't  know  you  had  asked  him  to  go  to  the 
Glee  Club  concert,"  said  Nance. 

"He  can't  go,"  Molly  replied  quickly,  relieved 
that  they  had  been  willing  to  accept  this  explana- 
tion. 

"I  should  think  he  couldn't,"  put  in  Judy,  in  a 
low  voice.  "Mamma  has  just  written  me  such 
news  about  the  Blounts.  The  letter  came  by  the 
late  mail  and  I  didn't  have  a  chance  to  read  it 
until  a  little  while  ago.  Mr.  Blount  has  failed 
and  gone  away,  no  one  knows  where.  They 
thought  they  could  pay  off  his  creditors  and  his 
family  found  that  he  had  mortgaged  all  his  prop- 
erty and  there  wasn't  any  money  left." 

In  the  dimly-lighted  corridor  the  girls  had  not 
noticed  that  Molly  had  turned  perfectly  white 
and  was  clasping  and  unclasping  her  hands  con- 
vulsively in  an  effort  to  retain  her  self-control. 

"No  money  left?"  she  repeated  in  a  low  voice. 

"Not  a  cent,"  said  Judy.  "Papa  knows  because 
he  had  some  friends  who  lost  money  in  a  mine 
or  something  Mr.  Blount  owned." 


TWO   LONG   DISTANCE   CALLS  89 

"Poor  Judith,"  observed  Nance.  "Do  you  sup- 
pose she  hasn't  been  told?" 

"Of  course  not.  She  wouldn't  be  flaunting 
around  here  to-night  if  she  knew  her  family  were 
in  trouble." 

"How  strange  for  us  to  know  and  for  her  not 
to !"  pursued  Nance. 

"It  isn't  generally  known.  Mamma  says  the 
papers  haven't  got  hold  of  it  yet,  and  I'm  not  to 
tell.  You  see  mamma  and  I  met  Judith  Blount 
one  afternoon  at  a  matinee  just  before  college 
opened.  That's  why  she  was  interested,  because 
she  remembered  that  Judith  was  Mr.  Blount's 
daughter." 

All  this  time  Molly's  mind  was  busy  working 
out  the  problem  of  how  to  remain  at  college  with- 
out any  money.  Of  course,  the  Blounts  couldn't 
pay  their  father's  debts  on  nothing,  although 
Richard  Blount  had  told  her  not  to  worry.  The 
family  would  have  to  move  out  of  their  old  home, 
she  supposed,  and  take  a  small  house  in  town, 
and  everybody  would  have  to  just  turn  in  and 
go  to  work.  Oh,  why  had  her  mother  heeded  the 


90  MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
advice  of  old  Colonel  Gray?  He  had  assured  her 
that  she  would  make  at  least  fifteen  thousand 
from  the  money  invested,  while  he,  poor  man, 
had  squandered  his  entire  inheritance  in  the  en- 
terprise, just  because  an  old  and  intimate  friend 
was  backing  it.  That  old  and  intimate  friend 
was  Mr.  Blount,  and  Molly  had  never  guessed 
it. 

Pretty  soon  it  was  time  to  go  home.  Molly 
found  herself  in  the  carriage,  trying  to  listen 
politely  to  the  ceaseless  flow  of  Miss  Petit's  con- 
versation, while  she  wrapped  her  old,  gray  eider- 
down cape  about  her  and  thought  and  thought. 
Suddenly  the  words  of  Madeleine  Petit  pierced 
her  troubled  mind. 

"Do  you  write,  Miss  Brown?  I  wish  I  could. 
I'd  like  to  try  for  some  of  the  prizes  for  short 
stories.  Think  of  winning  a  thousand  dollars 
for  one  story !  Wouldn't  it  be  glorious  ?  Then, 
there  are  some  advertisement  prizes,  too.  One 
for  five  hundred  dollars ;  think  of  that !  I  always 
cut  out  every  one  I  see,  meaning  to  compete,  but 


TWO   LONG   DISTANCE    CALLS  91 

I  never  do.    It  isn't  in  my  line,  you  see.    I'm  go- 
ing to  major  in  mathematics." 

Molly  smiled  that  the  dainty  little  creature 
should  have  chosen  that  hated  subject  for  her 
life's  work. 

"You  say  you  saved  the  clippings  about 
prizes  ?"  she  asked  when  they  had  reached  Made- 
leine's lodging. 

"Oh,  yes ;  I  have  them  all  in  my  room.  Would 
you  like  to  see  some  of  them?  Tell  the  man  to 
wait,  and  I'll  bring  them  down." 

Molly  reached  Queen's  that  night  before  the 
other  girls,  and  hastening  to  the  student's  lamp, 
she  proceeded  to  look  over  the  clippings. 

One  was  from  a  leading  woman's  magazine; 
one  from  a  magazine  of  short  stories;  several 
from  advertising  firms — the  best  jingle  about  a 
stove  polish ;  the  best  catchy  phrase  about  a  laun- 
dry soap ;  the  best  advertisement  in  verse  or  prose 
for  a  real  estate  company  which  had  purchased 
an  entire  mountain  and  was  engaged  in  erecting 
numbers  of  Swiss  chalets  for  summer  residents. 
The  pictures  of  these  pretty  little  houses  were 


92  MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
very  attractive.  Many  of  them  had  poetical 
names.  One  of  them,  called  "The  Chalet  of  the 
West  Wind,"  occupied  the  centre  of  the  page. 
From  its  broad  gallery  could  be  seen  a  long  vista 
of  valley,  flanked  by  mountain  ranges. 

"What  a  charming  place !"  thought  Molly,  and 
that  night  she  went  to  bed  with  the  "Chalet  of 
the  West  Wind"  so  deeply  photographed  in  her 
mind  that  she  almost  felt  as  if  she  had  been  there 
herself.  She  could  see  it  perched  on  the  side  of 
the  mountain,  looking  across  the  valley.  It  was 
at  the  very  edge  of  the  forest.  The  picture 
showed  that,  and  in  her  imagination  she  scented 
the  wild  flowers  that  must  grow  at  its  feet  in  the 
springtime.  No  doubt  the  west  wind,  which  sym- 
bolized health  and  happiness,  fair  weather  and 
sunshine,  blew  softly  through  its  open  casements 
and  across  its  spacious  galleries. 

She  went  to  sleep  dreaming  of  the  "Chalet  of 
the  West  Wind,"  and  in  the  morning  something 
throbbed  in  her  pulses.  It  was  a  kind  of  muffled 
pounding  at  first,  like  the  beginning  of  a  long 
distance  call,  "lumpty-tum-tum ;  lumpty-tum- 


TWO    LONG    DISTANCE    CALLS  93 

turn."  But  gradually  a  poem  took  shape  in  her 
mind,  and  as  the  fragments  came  to  her  she 
wrote  them  down  on  scraps  of  paper  and  hid 
them  carefully  in  her  desk. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE:  GLEE;  CLUB  CONCERT. 

"If  a  cross-section  could  be  made  of  this  house, 
it  would  be  rather  amusing,"  exclaimed  Judy 
Kean.  "In  every  room  there  would  be  one  girl 
buttoning  up  another  girl." 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  Glee  Club  concert, 
and  nearly  everybody  not  a  freshman  was  going 
to  dine  somewhere  b  if  ore  the  concert.  Judy 
and  Nance  were  invited  to  the  McLeans',  and 
Molly  was  to  have  dinner  with  Mary  Stewart  and 
her  guests  in  the  Quadrangle  apartment.  Dur- 
ing the  process  of  dressing  there  was  a  great  deal 
of  "cross-talk"  going  on  at  Queen's  that  night. 
Through  the  open  doors  along  the  corridors 
voices  could  be  heard  calling : 

"Has  anyone  a  piece  of  narrow  black  velvet?" 
"Margaret,  don't  you  dare  go  without  hooking 
me  up !" 

94 


THE    GLEE    CLUB    CONCERT  95 

"Who  thinks  white  shoes  and  stockings  are  too 
dressy?" 

"Oh  my,  but  you  look  scrumptious  I" 

Molly  had  saved  her  most  prized  dress  for  this 
occasion.  It  was  the  one  she  had  purchased  the 
Christmas  before  in  New  York  and  was  made  of 
old  blue  chiffon  cloth  over  a  "slimsy"  satin  lin- 
ing, with  two  big  old  rose  velvet  poppies  at  the 
belt.  It  was  cut  out  in  the  neck  and  the  sleeves 
were  short.  Just  before  coming  back  to  college, 
she  had  indulged  in  long  ecru  suede  gloves,  which 
she  now  drew  on  silently.  She  had  received  a 
letter  from  her  mother  that  morning  and  her 
heart  was  heavy  within  her.  The  letter  said : 

"The  investment  I  made  last  summer  has  not 
turned  out  well.  The  young  son  has  assured  me 
that  the  family  intends  to  pay  back  all  the  credi- 
tors, and  I  am  trying  not  to  worry.  In  the  mean- 
time, my  precious  daughter,  you  must  not  think 
of  giving  up  college,  as  you  offered  in  your  last 
letter;  that  is,  until  this  term  is  over.  Then  we 
will  see  what  can  be  done,  although  I  am  obliged 
to  tell  you  that  things  do  not  look  very  hopeful 


96        MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

about  any  present  funds.  Jane  is  to  take  a  posi- 
tion in  town  as  librarian  and  Minnie  intends  to 
start  a  dancing  class.  Your  brothers  and  sisters 
and  I  will  get  on,  but  oh,  I  did  so  want  you  to 
have  the  advantages  of  a  good  education/' 

"But  so  much  else  goes  with  the  education," 
Molly  protested  to  herself.  "So  many  pleasures 
and  enjoyments.  Somehow,  it  doesn't  seem  fair 
for  me  to  be  going  to  glee  club  concerts  when  all 
my  family  are  working  so  hard." 

"Have  you  any  stamps,  Judy  ?"  she  asked  sud- 
denly, as  she  hooked  that  young  woman  into  her 
dress. 

"As  many  as  you  want  up  to  a  dozen,"  an- 
swered Judy.  "They  are  in  the  pill  box  on  my 
desk." 

Molly  made  her  way  through  Judy's  tumbled 
apartment  and  helped  herself  to  the  stamps. 

"I'll  return  them  to-morrow,"  she  said  absently, 
drawing  a  letter  from  her  portfolio,  slipping  one 
stamp  into  the  envelope,  and  sticking  the  other 
on  the  back. 

"What  in  the  world  are  you  writing  to  a  real 


THE    GLEE    CLUB   CONCEKT  97 

estate  firm  for,  Molly?"  demanded  Judy,  looking 
over  Molly's  shoulder. 

"Oh,  just  answering  an  ad." 

"Are  you  so  rich  that  you  are  going  to  buy  a 
farm?" 

"I  wish  I  were." 

Judy's  curiosity  never  gave  her  any  peace,  and 
she  now  desired  earnestly  to  know  why  Molly 
was  corresponding  with  this  strange  firm. 

"If  it  turns  out  well,  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Molly; 
"but  if  it  doesn't,  you'll  never,  never  know." 

"You  mean  thing,  and  I  thought  you  loved 
me,"  ejaculated  Judy. 

"I  do.  That's  why  I  won't  tell  you.  If  I  did, 
I  would  have  to  inflict  something  worse  on  you, 
and  you  wouldn't  be  so  thankful  for  that  part." 

"I  shall  burst  if  I  don't  know,"  cried  Judy  in 
despair. 

"Burst  into  a  million  little  pieces  then,  like  the 
Snow  Queen's  looking  glass  and  get  into  people's 
eyes  and  make  them  see  queer  Judy  pictures  and 
think  queerer  Judy  thoughts." 

"Meany,  meany,"  called  Judy  after  her  friend, 


98        MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
who  had  seized  her  gray  eider-down  cape  and 
was  fleeing  down  the  hall. 

"I  love  all  this,"  thought  Molly,  as  she  has- 
tened up  the  campus  to  the  Quadrangle.  "I 
adore  the  gay  talk  and  the  jokes — oh,  heavens, 
but  it  will  be  hard  to  leave  it !  I  understand  now 
how  Mary  Stewart  felt  when  she  almost  decided 
not  to  come  back  this  year  and  then  gave  up  and 
came  after  all." 

Molly  felt  she  would  enjoy  the  sensation  of 
being  waited  on  at  table  that  night  instead  of 
waiting  herself,  as  she  had  done  about  this  time 
last  year  at  Judith  Blount's  dinner.  She  won- 
dered if  there  would  be  a  poor  little  trembly 
freshman  to  pass  the  food.  But  Mary  was  too 
kind-hearted  for  such  things  and  had  engaged 
two  women  in  the  village  to  cook  and  serve  her 
dinner. 

The  other  guests  had  not  arrived  when  Molly 
let  herself  into  the  beautiful  living  room  of  the 
apartment,  which  was  now  turned  into  a  dining 
room.  The  drop-leaf  mahogany  table  had  been 
drawn  into  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  was  set 


THE   GLEE    CLUB   CONCERT  99 

with  dazzling  linen  and  silver  for  eight  persons. 

"I  wonder  who  the  other  two  are,"  thought 
Molly. 

"Is  that  you,  Molly,  dear  ?"  called  Mary  from 
the  bedroom.  "Well,  come  and  hook  my  dress — " 
how  many  yards  of  hooks  and  eyes  had  Molly 
joined  together  that  evening!  "And  here's  some- 
thing for  you.  Willie,  when  he  found  out  you 
were  taking  him,  sent  you  some  violets." 

"Heavens!"  cried  the  young  girl,  after  she 
had  finished  Mary  and  opened  the  large  purple 
box.  "Oh,  Mary,  this  bunch  is  big  enough  for 
three  people." 

"It's  only  intended  for  one,  and  that's  you," 
laughed  the  other. 

The  bouquet  was  indeed  as  large  as  a  soup 
plate. 

"I  don't  think  I'd  better  wear  them  to  dinner. 
I  couldn't  see  over  them.  I  should  feel  as  if  I 
were  carrying  a  violet  bed  on  my  chest." 

"And  so  you  are.  No  doubt  it  took  all  the  vio- 
lets from  one  large  double  bed  for  that  bunch. 
But  you  had  better  wear  them  at  first,  and  take 


100      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

them  off  at  the  table.  Brother  Willie  is  one  of 
the  touchiest  young  persons  imaginable.  Father 
and  I  have  always  called  him  'the  sensitive 
plant.'  " 

Hastily  Molly  pinned  on  the  enormous  bunch, 
which  covered  the  entire  front  of  her  dress. 

"They  are  coming  now,"  she  said,  hearing 
steps  in  the  next  room;  and,  peeping  through  the 
door,  she  beheld  "Brother  Willie"  himself,  re- 
splendent in  his  evening  clothes,  in  company 
with  two  other  equally  resplendent  beings,  all 
wearing  white  gardenias  in  their  buttonholes. 

"My  goodness,  they  look  like  a  wedding!" 
Molly  whispered  to  her  friend. 

"Aren't  they  grand?"  laughed  Mary.  "And 
here  I  am  as  plain  as  an  old  shoe,  and  never  will 
be  anything  else." 

"You  are  the  finest  thing  I  know,"  exclaimed 
Molly,  tucking  her  arm  through  her  friend's 
and  allowing  herself  to  be  led  rather  timidly  into 
the  living  room. 

The  third  girl  at  this  fine  affair  was  another 
post-grad.,  and  presently  Molly  rejoiced  to  see 


THE  GLEE  CLUB  CONCERT     101 

Miss  Grace  Green  enter  with  her  brother,  Ed- 
win. Miss  Green  looked  very  pretty  and  young. 
She  kissed  Molly  and  told  her  she  was  a  dear, 
and  smelt  the  violets  and  pinched  her  cheek, 
glancing-  slyly  at  the  three  young  men,  any  one 
of  whom  might  have  burdened  her  with  that 
huge  bouquet.  And  did  not  such  bouquets  argue 
something  more  than  ordinary  friendship  ? 

As  for  the  Professor,  he  glanced  at  the  bou- 
quet almost  before  he  looked  at  Molly.  Then  he 
shook  her  stiffly  by  the  hand  and,  turning  away, 
devoted  himself  to  the  post-grad.. 

"Do  they  know  that  my  mother  has  lost  all  her 
money  in  their  cousin's  mine?"  Molly  thought. 
"Perhaps  that's  the  reason  why  Professor  Green 
is  so  cold  tonight.  He's  embarrassed." 

At  dinner  Molly  sat  between  Will  Stewart  and 
an  elegant,  rich  young  man  named  Raymond 
Bellaire,  who  talked  in  rather  a  drawling  voice 
about  yachting  parties  and  cross-country  riding 
and  motoring.  "At  college,  you  know,  the  fel- 
lahs are  awfully  set  on  those  little  two-seated 
electric  affairs."  What  car  did  Molly  prefer? 


102       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
Molly  was  obliged  to  admit  that  she  preferred 
the  Stewart  car  in  New  York,  whatever  that  was, 
it  being  the  only  one  she  had  ever  ridden  in. 

The  young  man  screwed  a  monocle  into  one 
eye  and  looked  at  her.  He  was  half  English  and 
had  half  a  right  to  a  monocle,  but  Molly  wished 
he  wouldn't  screw  up  his  eye  like  that.  It  made 
her  want  to  laugh.  However,  he  didn't  appear  to 
notice  at  all  that  she  was  endeavoring  to  keep 
the  irresistible  laugh-curve  from  her  lips.  He 
only  looked  at  her  harder,  and  then  remarked : 

"I  say,  by  Jove,  you'd  make  a  jolly  fine  Portia. 
Did  you  ever  think  of  going  on  the  stage  ?" 

"Oh,  no;  I'm  going  to  be  a  school  teacher," 
answered  Molly. 

"School  teacher?"  he  repeated  aghast.  "You? 
With  that  hair  and — by  Jove — those  violets!" 
His  eyes  had  lighted  on  the  mammoth  bunch. 
"Tell  that  to  the  marines." 

Molly  flushed. 

"The  violets  haven't  anything  to  do  with  my 
teaching  school,"  she  said  a  little  indignantly. 


THE  GLEE  CLUB  CONCERT     103 

"And  neither  has  my  hair.  Didn't  you  ever  see 
a  red-headed  school  teacher?" 

"Not  when  her  hair  curled  like  that  and  had 
glints  of  gold  in  it." 

"You're  teasing  me  because  I'm  only  a  sopho- 
more," she  said,  and  turned  her  head  away. 

"No,  by  Jove,  I'm  not  though,"  protested  Ray- 
mond Bellaire,  looking  much  pained.  But  Molly 
was  talking  to  Willie  Stewart  at  her  right. 

That  young  man  was  the  most  correct  individ- 
ual in  the  matter  of  clothes,  deportment  and 
small  talk  she  had  ever  seen.  She  thought  of 
his  splendid  father,  who  had  started  life  as  a 
bootblack. 

"I  wonder  if  he's  pleased  with  his  fashion-plate 
son?"  she  pondered. 

She  didn't  care  for  him  or  his  friends.  They 
were  not  like  the  jolly  boys  over  at  Exmoor, 
who  talked  about  basket-ball  and  football,  and 
swopped  confidences  regarding  Latin  and  Greek 
and  that  awful  French  Literature  examination, 
and  what  this  professor  was  like,  and  what  the 
Prexy  said  or  was  supposed  to  have  said,  and  so 


104      MOLLY  BBOWN'S  SOPHOMOBE  DAYS 

on.  It  was  all  college  gossip,  but  Molly  enjoyed 
it  and  contributed  her  share  eagerly.  She  tried 
a  little  of  it  on  Brother  Willie. 

"Are  you  taking  up  Higher  Math,  this  year, 
Mr.  Stewart?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  after  a  fashion,"  he  answered.  "I  don't 
expect  to  stay  at  college  after  this  year.  I'm  go- 
ing to  Paris  to  finish  off." 

Molly  wondered  what  "Higher  Math,  after  a 
fashion"  really  meant. 

At  the  concert  later  it  was  a  relief  to  find  her- 
self next  to  Professor  Green,  who  had  scarcely 
looked  in  her  direction  all  through  dinner.  At 
first  she  felt  a  little  embarrassed,  sitting  next  to 
the  Professor,  who  was  a  great  man  at  Welling- 
ton. She  began  silently  to  admire  the  packed 
audience  of  young  girls  in  light  dresses  with  a 
generous  sprinkling  of  young  men  in  evening 
clothes. 

"You'll  probably  be  a  member  of  the  club  next 
year,  Miss  Brown,"  the  Professor  was  saying. 
"I'm  sure  you  must  sing.  I  am  surprised  they 


THE    GLEE    CLUB   CONCEET  105 

have  not  found  it  out  by  this  time.  Next  winter 
you  must " 

"I  doubt  if  I  am  here  next  winter,"  interrupted 
Molly,  and  then  blushed  furiously  and  bit  her  lip. 
She  wished  she  had  not  made  that  speech. 

"Is  anything  going  to  happen  that  will  keep 
you  from  coming  to  college  next  winter?"  he 
asked,  glancing  at  the  violets. 

"How  can  I  tell  what  will  happen?"  she  an- 
swered childishly. 

"Then,  why  not  come  back  next  year?" 

"Because — because "  she  began.  "Oh,  here 

they  come!"  she  interrupted  herself  to  say,  as 
the  members  of  the  Glee  Club  filed  slowly  out  and 
took  their  seats.  "Aren't  they  sweet  in  their 
white  dresses?" 

"Very!"  answered  the  Professor,  "but  what's 
this  about  next  year?  It  was  just  idle  talk, 
wasn't  it?" 

"No,  no,"  whispered  Molly,  for  the  first  num- 
ber was  about  to  begin;  "hasn't  Mr.  Blount  told 
you  anything?" 


106      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"Why,  no.  That  is,  nothing  about  you.  What 
on  earth?" 

"Didn't  you  have  a  list  of  the  stockholders?" 
"You  mean  of  the  Square  Deal  Mine?"  he 
asked  in  entire  amazement. 
"Yes." 

"I  have  a  list,  but  what  of  it?" 
"My  mother's  name  is  there — Mrs.  Mildred 
Carmichael  Brown." 

"Great  heavens!"  groaned  the  Professor. 
Then  he  sunk  far  down  in  his  seat  and  buried 
his  face  in  his  program. 

Jenny  Wren  opened  the  concert  with  this  song, 
which  suited  her  high,  bird-like  voice  to  perfec- 
tion: 

'  'Oh,  I  wish  I  were  a  tiny, 
Browny  bird  from  out  the  South, 
Settled  among  the  alderholts 
And  twittering  by  the  stream; 
I  would  put  my  tiny  tail  down 
And  put  up  my  little  mouth, 
And  sing  my  tiny  life  away 
In  one  melodious  dream. 


THE  GLEE  CLUB  CONCERT      107 

'  'I  would  sing  about  the  blossoms, 
And  the  sunshine  and  the  sky, 
And  the  tiny  wife  I  mean  to  have, 
In  such  a  cosy  nest ; 

And  if  someone  came  and  shot  me  dead, 
Why,  then,  I  could  but  die, 
With  my  tiny  life  and  tiny  song 
Just  ended  at  their  best.' ' 

There  was  something  so  moving  about  the  lit- 
tle song  that  Molly  felt  she  could  have  melted 
into  a  fountain  of  tears  like  Undine;  and  she 
was  obliged  to  smile  and  smile  and  pretend  that 
her  heart  wasn't  breaking  because  her  tiny  life 
and  tiny  song  at  Wellington — her  beloved  Wel- 
lington— were  soon  to  come  to  an  end.  The  Pro- 
fessor, too,  was  stirred.  He  glanced  once  at 
Molly's  smiling  lips  and  tearful  eyes  and  blew 
his  nose  violently.  Then  again  he  contemplated 
the  program  with  great  interest. 

During  the  intermission,  Molly  and  Will  Stew- 
art went  visiting  down  the  aisle.  Half  the  audi- 
ence was  moving  about,  talking  to  the  other  half, 


108      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMOKE  DAYS 
and  the  hall  was  filled  with  the  buzz  of  laughter 
and  conversation. 

"I  love  it !  I  love  it !"  Molly  kept  repeating  to 
herself.  "There  couldn't  be  anything  more  per- 
fect than  college.  Oh,  do  I  have  to  give  it  up  ?" 

"Hey,  Miss  Molly !"  called  Andy  McLean  in  a 
nearby  seat,  while  Judy  and  Nance  and  George 
Theodore  Green  were  waving  violently  to  her, 
and  Lawrence  Upton  was  shaking  hands  with 
her  and  assuring  her  that  the  dinner  had  been 
a  failure  because  she  hadn't  been  there.  For- 
tunately, Judith  was  well  out  of  ear-shot  behind 
the  scenes.  The  Williams  sisters,  from  across 
the  aisle,  were  calling  in  one  voice : 

"Molly,  come  and  meet  our  brother  John." 

Margaret  Wakefield,  causing  a  sensation  with 
her  distinguished  father,  and  enduring  the  gaze 
of  the  entire  audience  with  the  calmness  of  one 
reared  in  the  public  eye,  detained  her  for  a  mo- 
ment to  introduce  her  to  the  famous  politician. 

"A  real  belle,"  said  Miss  Grace  Green  to  her 
brother,  leaning  across  two  seats  to  speak  to  him, 
"is  one  who  is  just  as  popular  with  women  as 


THE    GLEE    CLUB    CONCERT  109 

with  men,  and  Miss  Molly  Brown  of  Kentucky 
appears  to  be  a  general  favorite." 

The  Professor  looked  at  his  sister  absently. 
Apparently,  he  hadn't  heard  a  word  she  said. 

He  was  saying  to  himself : 

"I  think  I'll  let  the  tenor  sing  that  little  lyric 
that  begins :  'Eyes  like  the  skies  in  summer/  ' 

After  a  while  the  delightful  affair  was  over, 
and  Molly,  feeling  immensely  happy  in  spite  of 
her  anxious  heart,  had  been  escorted  to  Queen's. 
Professor  Edwin  Green,  hastening  into  his  room, 
flung  his  hat  in  one  direction  and  his  coat  in  an- 
other, and  sat  down  at  his  desk.  Without  an 
instant's  hesitation,  he  seized  a  pencil  and  the 
first  scrap  of  paper  he  found  and  began  to  write : 

"Dear  Richard: 

"I  know  that  your  cares  are  many,  but  get  to 
work  on  the  score  of  the  opera.  I  find  that  by 
working  at  night  for  a  week  I  shall  be  able  to 
finish  the  last  act  and  make  all  the  changes  you 
suggested.  We  must  launch  the  thing  now.  I 
have  overcome  all  scruples,  as  you  called  them, 
and  I  want  nothing  more  than  to  get  the  opera 
into  some  manager's  hands.  If  you  think  that 
Blum  &  Starks  will  take  it  up,  you  had  better  see 
them  at  once.  My  name  may  be  used  and  every- 


110      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

thing  that  goes  with  it  in  the  way  of  previous 
unimportant  literary  efforts.  It's  unusual,  of 
course,  for  a  Professor  of  English  Literature  to 
write  a  comic  opera,  but  the  very  unusualness 
may  give  it  some  publicity  and  help  the  thing 
along.  I  have  made  one  change  without  con- 
ferring; given  the  tenor-lover  the  baritone-vil- 
lain's song:  'Eyes  like  the  skies  in  summer.' 
Write  something  very  pretty  for  that,  will  you, 
old  man?  The  money  we  may  make  on  this  will 
help  some  in  the  present  critical  family  situation. 
I  understand  that  there  have  been  a  good  many 
failures  in  light  opera  this  winter,  and  the  man- 
agers are  looking  for  good  things.  It  may  be 
that  we  shall  strike  at  the  psychological  moment. 

"Yours,  E.  G." 

The  august  Professor  then  wrote  two  other 
letters;  one  to  a  firm  of  bankers  and  one  to  his 
publishers.  At  last,  getting  into  an  old  dressing 
gown  and  some  very  rusty  slippers,  lighting  a 
long,  black  cigar  and  drawing  his  student's  lamp 
nearer,  he  took  an  immense  roll  of  manuscript 
from  a  drawer  and  fell  to  work.  It  was  three 
o'clock  before  he  turned  in  for  three  hours  of 
troubled  sleep. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  JAPANESE:  SPREAD. 

One  morning  every  girl  at  Queen's  discovered 
by  her  plate  at  the  breakfast  table  a  strange  rice 
paper  document  some  twelve  inches  in  length  and 
very  narrow  as  to  width,  rolled  compactly  on  a 
small  stick. 

"What's  this?"  demanded  Margaret  Wake- 
field,  unrolling  her  scroll  and  regarding  it  with 
the  legal  eye  of  an  attorney  perusing  documen- 
tary evidence. 

Across  the  top  of  the  scroll  swung  a  gay  little 
row  of  Japanese  lanterns  done  in  delicate  water 
colors,  and  in  characters  strangely  Japanese  was 
inscribed  the  following  invitation : 

"Greetings  from 
Otoyo  Sen: 
Your  honorable 
111 


112      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

presence  is 
requested  on 
Saturday  evening 
at  the  insignificant  fete 
in  the  unworthily 
apartment  of 
Otoyo  Sen. 
Otoyo  muchly 
flattered  by 
joyful  acceptance." 

Fortunately,  the  little  Japanese  girl,  overcome 
by  shyness  after  this  rash  venture,  had  not  ap- 
peared at  breakfast  and  was  spared  the  mirthful 
expressions  on  the  faces  of  the  girls  around  the 
table. 

"Well,  of  all  the  funny  children,"  laughed 
Molly.  "Nance,  let's  offer  her  our  room.  She 
can't  get  the  crowd  into  her  little  place." 

"Of  course,"  said  Nance,  agreeable  to  any- 
thing her  roommate  might  suggest. 

Not  a  single  girl  declined  the  quaint  invita- 
tion and  formal  acceptances  were  sent  that  very 
day. 


A   JAPANESE    SPEEAD  113 

Otoyo  was  so  excited  and  happy  over  these 
missives  that  she  seemed  to  be  in  a  state  of  semi- 
exaltation  for  the  better  part  of  a  week.  She 
rushed  to  the  village  and  sent  off  a  telegram  and 
before  Saturday  morning  received  at  least  a 
dozen  mysterious  boxes  by  express.  They  were 
piled  one  on  top  of  the  other  in  her  room  like  an 
Oriental  pyramid  and  no  one  was  permitted  to 
see  their  contents. 

All  offers  of  assistance  were  refused  the  day 
of  the  party.  Otoyo  wished  to  carry  out  her 
ideas  in  her  own  peculiar  way  and  needed  only 
a  step-ladder.  If  it  was  not  asking  too  much, 
would  the  beautiful  and  kind  friends  not  enter 
their  room  until  that  evening?  Removing  all 
things  needful  in  the  way  of  books  and  clothes 
to  Judy's  room,  the  beautiful  and  kind  friends 
good-naturedly  absented  themselves  from  their 
apartment  from  ten  in  the  morning  to  seven- 
thirty  that  evening.  Molly  spent  the  afternoon 
in  the  library  studying,  and  Nance  called  on  Mrs. 
McLean  and  drank  a  cup  of  tea  and  ate  a  but- 
tered scone,  while  she  cast  an  occasional  covert 


114      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

glance  in  the  direction  of  Andy  junior's  photo- 
graph on  the  mantel. 

It  was  well  before  eight  o'clock  when  the  in- 
quisitive guests  assembled,  and  there  were  at 
least  twenty  of  them;  for  Otoyo's  acquaintance 
was  large  and  numbered  girls  from  all  four 
classes.  They  met  downstairs  in  a  body  and  then 
marched  up  to  the  third  story  together. 

"Let's  give  her  a  serenade  before  we  knock," 
suggested  Judy,  and  they  sang:  "The  sweetest 
girl  in  Wellington  is  O-to-yo."  Any  name  could 
be  fitted  into  this  convenient  and  ingenious  song. 

Otoyo  flung  open  the  door  and  stood  smiling 
before  them.  Her  manner  was  the  very  quintes- 
sence of  hospitality.  She  wore  a  beautiful  em- 
broidered kimono  and  her  hair  was  fixed  Japa- 
nese fashion.  Even  her  shoes  were  Japanese, 
and  she  carried  a  little  fan  which  she  agitated 
charmingly  to  express  her  excited  emotions. 

All  her  English  forsook  her  in  the  excitement 
of  greeting  her  guests  and  she  could  only  re- 
peat over  and  over  again: 

"Otoyo  delightly—  Otoyo  delightly." 


A   JAPANESE    SPREAD  115 

"Well,  I  never,"  ejaculated  Nance,  entering 
her  old  familiar  room,  now  transformed  into  a 
gay  Japanese  bazaar. 

"Is  this  the  parent  of  all  the  umbrella  family?" 
demanded  Judy,  pointing  to  an  enormous  parasol 
swung  in  some  mysterious  manner  from  the  cen- 
tre of  the  ceiling  and  resembling  a  large  fish 
swimming  among  a  numerous  small-fry  of  lan- 
terns. The  divans  were  spread  with  Japanese 
covers,  and  over  the  white  dimity  curtains  were 
hung  cotton  crepe  ones  of  pale  blue  with  a  pink 
cherry-blossom  design.  In  one  corner  stood  a 
vase,  from  which  poured  the  incense  of  smoking 
joss-sticks.  Funny  little  handleless  cups  were 
ranged  on  the  table  and  lacquered  trays  of  candied 
fruits,  rice  cakes  and  other  indescribable  Japa- 
nese "meat-sweets,"  as  Otoyo  had  called  them. 
The  little  hostess  flew  about  the  room  exactly  as 
the  Three  Little  Maids  did  in  "The  Mikado," 
waving  her  fan  and  bowing  profoundly  to  her 
guests.  Presently,  sitting  cross-legged  on  the 
floor,  she  sang  a  song  in  her  own  language,  ac- 
companying herself  on  a  curious  stringed  instru- 


116      MOLLY  BROWN'S  80PHOMOEE  DAYS 

ment,  a  kind  of  Japanese  banjo.  She  was,  in 
fact,  the  funniest,  queerest,  most  captivating  lit- 
tle creature  ever  seen.  She  loaded  her  guests 
with  souvenirs,  little  lacquered  boxes,  fans  and 
diminutive  toys. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  were  a  belle  at  a  grand  cotillion 
with  all  these  lovely  favors,"  exclaimed  Jessie 
Lynch. 

"Of  course,  you  would  always  be  laden  with 
favors,"  said  Judy;  "that  is,  if  you  could  get  all 
your  beaux  to  come  to  the  same  cotillion.  You 
are  like  the  sailor  who  had  a  lass  in  every  port. 
I  strongly  suspect  you  of  having  an  admirer  in 
every  prominent  city  in  the  country." 

Jessie  laughed  and  dimpled. 

"No,"  she  said;  "I  stopped  at  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains." 

Otoyo,  who  had  been  listening  closely  to  this 
dialogue,  suddenly  bethought  herself  of  a  new 
sensation  she  had  provided  for  her  friends,  which 
she  was  about  to  forget. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "I  nearlee  forgetting.  Amer- 
ican girl  love  fortune  telling?  So  do  Japanese. 


OTOYO    TOOK    THE    SLIP    AND,      ....      TRANSLATED    IN    A    HIGH 

FUNNY  VOICE. — Page  117. 


A    JAPANESE    SPEEAD  117 

You  like  to  have  your  fortune  told?"  she  asked, 
cocking  her  head  on  one  side  like  a  little  bird  and 
blinking  at  Jessie. 

"Would  she?"  cried  a  dozen  ironical  voices. 

"I  hope  it's  nothing  disagreeable  and  there's 
no  bad  luck  in  it,"  said  Jessie,  drawing  a  slip  of 
paper  from  a  flat,  shiny  box.  "But  it's  all  in 
Japanese,"  she  added,  with  much  disappointment. 

"Otoyo  will  translate  it.  Won't  you,  you  cun- 
ning little  sugar-lump  ?"  asked  Molly. 

"Everybodee  choose  and  then  I  will  make  into 
English,"  said  the  small,  busy  hostess,  flying 
from  one  to  another  on  her  marshmallow  soles. 

"Me  first  of  all,"  cried  the  eager  Jessie.  "I 
had  first  draw." 

Otoyo  took  the  slip  and,  holding  it  under  a  lan- 
tern, translated  in  a  high,  funny  voice : 

"He  happy  who  feesh  for  one  and  catch  heem, 
than  feesh  for  many  and  catch  none." 

The  wild  whoop  of  joy  that  went  up  at  this 
unexpectedly  appropriate  statement  made  the 
lanterns  quiver  and  the  teacups  rattle. 

Some  of  the  others  were  not  so  appropriate, 


118      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

but  they  were  all  very  amusing.  Mabel  Hinton, 
who  had  been  nicknamed  "old  maid"  the  year 
before,  drew  one  which  announced: 

"Your  daughters  will  make  good  matches." 

The  girls  laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down  their 
cheeks  at  this  prediction,  and  Mabel  was  quite 
teased. 

"I'd  like  to  know  why  I  shouldn't  have  a  fam- 
ily of  marriageable  daughters  some  day,"  she  ex- 
claimed, blinking  at  them  with  near-sighted  eyes 
while  she  wiped  the  moisture  from  her  large 
round  glasses. 

Nance's  fortune  was  a  very  sentimental  one 
and  caused  her  to  blush  as  red  as  a  rose. 

"Love  will  not  change,  neither  in  the  cold 
weenter  time  nor  in  the  warm  spreengtime  under 
the  cherry-blossoms  when  the  moon  ees  bright." 

"Oh,  thou  blushing  maiden,"  cried  Judy, 
"canst  look  us  in  the  eye  after  this?" 

Molly's  was  rather  comforting  to  her  troubled 
and  unquiet  heart. 

"Look  for  cleer  weather  when  the  sky  ees 
blackest." 


A   JAPANESE    SPEEAD  119 

Of  all  the  mottoes,  Judy's  was  the  funniest. 

"Eef  thy  hus-band  beat  thee,  geeve  heem  a 
smile." 

"Smile  indeed,"  exclaimed  that  young  woman 
when  the  laughter  had  died  down ;  "I'll  just  turn 
the  tables  on  him  and  beat  him  back,  Otoyo. 
American  young  lady  quite  capable  of  giving 
honorable  husband  a  good  trouncing  with  a  black- 
snake  whip." 

Otoyo  opened  her  eyes  at  this.  It  was  doubt- 
ful whether  she  could  appreciate  the  humor  of 
her  mottoes,  but  she  enjoyed  hearing  the  girls 
laugh;  she  realized  they  must  be  having  a  good 
time  if  they  laughed  like  that — really  genuine, 
side-shaking  laughter  and  no  lip-smiles  for  po- 
liteness' sake. 

"Who's  heard  the  news  about  Judith  Blount?" 
asked  one  of  the  Williamses,  after  the  party  had 
broken  up  and  only  the  Queen's  girls  remained. 

Molly  and  Judy  and  Nance  exchanged  tele- 
graphic glances.  They  had  been  careful  to  keep 
secret  what  Mrs.  Kean  had  written  her  daugh- 
ter, and  they  were  curious  to  know  just  how 


120      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

much  the  others  knew  on  the  subject,  which  was 
now  always  uppermost,  at  least  in  Molly's  mind. 

"She's  sub-let  her  apartment,  furnished,  to  that 
rich  freshman  from  New  York,  whose  father's 
worth  a  fortune  a  minute  from  gold  mines  and 
oil  wells,  and  she,  I  mean  Judith,  is  taking  the 
empty  singleton  here." 

"You  don't  mean  it !"  cried  a  chorus  of  voices. 

"It  seems  to  me  I  heard  that  a  Mr.  Blount  lost 
a  lot  of  money,"  observed  Margaret.  "It  must 
have  been  her  father." 

"How  are  the  mighty  fallen !"  exclaimed  Edith 
Williams.  "I  should  think  she'd  have  gone  any- 
where rather  than  here." 

"She  couldn't  get  in  any  of  the  less  expensive 
places  unless  she  had  taken  a  room  over  the  post 
office  in  the  village." 

"Poor  Judith !"  ejaculated  Jessie.  "I've  known 
it  for  a  week." 

To  save  her  life  Molly  could  not  keep  a  tiny 
little  barbed  thought  from  piercing  her  mind: 
"Js  it  fair  for  Judith  to  stay  at  college  when  I 


A   JAPANESE    SPREAD  121 

have  to  leave?  Has  she  any  right  to  the  money 
that's  paying  her  tuition?" 

Molly  turned  quickly  and  began  gathering  up 
the  debris  from  the  tea-tables.  Anything  to  get 
that  bitter  notion  out  of  her  head. 

"Let's  be  awfully  nice  to  her,  girls,"  she  said 
presently.  "I'm  sure  she's  terribly  unhappy.  Re- 
member what  success  we  had  with  Frances  An- 
drews last  year  just  through  a  little  kind  treat- 
ment." 

"Judith  is  a  different  subject  altogether,"  said 
Margaret,  argumentatively.  "She  has  such  a 
dreadful  temper.  You  never  can  tell  when  it's 
going  to  break  loose." 

With  the  Goddess  of  War  sitting  among  them 
at  this  moment,  nobody  dared  betray  by  the  flick 
of  an  eyelash  that  there  were  others  whose  tem- 
pers were  rather  uncertain.  Only  Jessie  ob- 
served: 

"Well,  Margaret,  dear,  you  got  the  better  of 
her  that  time  at  the  Ledges,  temper  or  no  tem- 
per." 

"I  doubt  if  she  takes  to  poverty  as  a  duck  to 


122      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
water,"  here  put  in  Judy.     "She'll  make  a  very 
impatient  tutor,  and  I'd  hate  to  have  her  black 
my  boots.    She  might  throw  them  at  my  head." 

"She  is  certainly  not  subdued  by  her  reverses," 
remarked  Jessie.  "She's  just  like  a  caged  animal. 
I  never  saw  anything  to  equal  her.  I  went  over 
there  this  afternoon  and  she  was  packing.  She 
almost  pitched  me  out  of  the  room.  Of  course, 
it's  very  luxurious  at  Beta  Phi  House,  but  her 
little  room  here  isn't  to  be  scorned.  It's  really 
quite  pretty,  with  lovely  paper  and  matting  and 
chintz  curtains  and  wicker  chairs." 

Suddenly  a  wave  of  indignation  swept  over 
Molly.  Nobody  had  ever  seen  her  look  as  she 
looked  now,  burning  spots  of  color  on  her  cheeks 
and  her  eyes  black. 

"What  right  has  she — how  dare  she — she 
should  be  thankful — "  she  burst  out  incoherently. 
Then  she  stamped  both  feet  up  and  down  like  an 
angry  child  and  flung  herself  face  down  on  the 
couch  in  an  agony  of  tears.  It  was  a  kind  of 
mental  tempest,  resembling  one  of  those  sudden 
storms  which  come  with  a  flash  of  lightning,  a 


A   JAPANESE    SPEEAD  123 

roaring  crash  of  thunder  and  then  a  downpour 
of  rain. 

"Why,  Mary  Carmichael  Washington  Brown," 
exclaimed  Judy,  kneeling  beside  poor  Molly, 
"whatever  has  come  over  you  ?" 

Little  Otoyo  was  so  frightened  that  she  hid 
behind  a  Japanese  screen,  while  the  other  girls 
sat  dumb  with  amazement. 

The  Williams  girls  were  intensely  interested, 
and  Margaret,  always  consistent  and  logical  in 
her  decisions,  knew  very  well  that  there  was 
something  serious  back  of  it. 

"Please  forgive  me,"  said  Molly  presently, 
wiping  her  eyes  and  sitting  up  as  limp  as  a  rag. 
"I'm  awfully  sorry  to  have  spoiled  the  evening 
like  this.  I  didn't  mean  it.  It  just  slipped  out  of 
me  before  I  knew  it  was  coming." 

"Why,  you  old  sweetness,"  exclaimed  the  af- 
fectionate Judy,  "of  course,  you  are  forgiven.  I 
guess  you  ought  to  be  allowed  a  few  outbursts. 
But  what  caused  it?" 

"I  think  it  was  nervousness,"  answered  Molly 
evasively. 


124      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

But  the  girls  began  to  realize  that  it  was  not 
entirely  nervousness.  It  occurred  to  them  now 
that  Molly  had  been  preoccupied  and  strangely 
silent  for  some  time.  Occasionally  she  gave  way 
to  forced  gaiety.  Twice  she  had  started  on 
walks,  changed  her  mind  and  come  back,  without 
giving  any  excuse  except  that  she  was  a  little 
tired.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  condition  that  had  come 
about  so  gradually  that  they  were  hardly  aware 
they  had  noticed  it  until  this  sudden  breakdown. 

"She's  dead  tired  and  ought  to  get  to  bed  this 
minute,"  remarked  Nance,  caressing  her  friend's 
hand. 

"Dearest  Molly,"  said  Jessie,  who  was  moved 
by  a  gentle  sympathy  always  for  those  in  trouble, 
"go  to  bed  and  get  a  good  rest.  It  was  just  nice 
and  human  of  you  to  get  mad  once  in  a  thousand 
years  and  we  love  you  all  the  better  for  it." 

They  were  good  friends,  all  of  them,  Molly 
felt,  as  they  kissed  her  or  pressed  her  hand  good- 
night, while  Nance  and  Judy  hastened  to  clear 
off  the  divan  and  put  up  the  windows  to  blow  01;  t 
t1.c  heavy,  incense-scented  air. 


A   JAPANESE    SPKEAD  125 

It  was  Otoyo,  however,  who  brought  the  tears 
back  to  poor  Molly's  eyes. 

"Dear,  beautiful  Mees  Brown,"  she  said. 
"You  must  not  think  it  will  come  wrong.  It  will 
come  right,  I  feel,  surelee." 

"What  is  it,  Nance?"  whispered  Judy,  after 
they  had  got  their  friend  to  bed. 

Nance  shook  her  head. 

"Heaven  knows,"  she  answered.  "But  it's 
something,  and  it  must  be  serious,  Judy,  or  she 
never  would  have  let  go  like  that." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

VESPERS. 

There  was  a  pretty  little  Episcopal  chapel  in 
the  village  of  Wellington,  where  at  Vespers  on 
Sunday  afternoons  the  students  were  wont  to 
congregate.  Six  Wellington  girls  always  served 
as  ushers  and  the  college  Glee  Club  formed  the 
Chapel  choir. 

"It's  a  good  thing  to  go  to  Vespers,"  remarked 
Judy  one  Sabbath  afternoon,  pinning  on  her 
large  velvet  hat  before  the  mirror  over  the  man- 
tel, notably  the  most  becoming  mirror  in  the 
house,  "not  only  for  the  welfare  of  our  souls,  but 
also  to  attire  ourselves  in  decent  clothes/' 

"I  suspect  you  of  thinking  it's  good  for 
your  soul  to  wear  good  clothes,  Judy,"  observed 
Nance. 

"You  suspect  rightly,  then,"  answered  Judy. 
"If  I  had  to  dress  in  rags,  I'm  afraid  my  soul 

126 


VESPERS 

would  become  a  thing  of  shreds  and  patches,  too, 
all  shiny  at  the  seams  and  down  at  the  heels." 

Nance  laughed. 

"That's  a  funny  way  to  talk,  considering  you 
are  about  to  attend  Vespers  at  the  Chapel  of  the 
good  St.  Francis,  who  took  the  vows  of  poverty 
and  lived  a  roving  life  on  the  hills  around  As- 
sisi." 

"That's  all  very  true,"  said  Judy,  "and  I've 
seen  the  picture  of  him  being  married  to  Lady 
Poverty,  but  our  dispositions  are  different,  St. 
Francis's  and  mine.  I  like  the  roving  over  the 
hills  part,  because  I'm  a  wanderer  by  nature,  but 
I  like  to  wander  in  nice  clothes.  My  manners  are 
getting  to  be  regular  old  gray  sweater  manners, 
and  if  I  didn't  put  on  my  velvet  suit  and  best 
hat  once  a  week  there's  no  telling  what  kind  of 
a  rude  creature  I  would  become." 

"Why,  Julia  Kean,  I'm  ashamed  of  you,"  cried 
Nance,  "you've  as  good  as  confessed  that  you 
go  to  Vespers  to  show  your  fine  clothes." 

"I  don't  go  to  show  'em,  goosie;  I  go  to  wear 
'em.  But  you  have  no  sense  of  humor.  What's 


128      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
the  good  of  telling  you  anything?    Molly,  there, 
understands  my  feelings,  I  am  sure." 

Molly  was  not  listening.  She  was  making  cal- 
culations at  her  desk  with  a  blunt  pencil  on  a 
scrap  of  paper. 

"I've  got  as  good  a  sense  as  you  have,"  cried 
Nance  hotly,  "only  I  don't  approve  of  being  hu- 
morous about  sacred  things." 

"Nonsense,"  broke  in  Judy,  "don't  you  know, 
child,  that  you  can't  limit  humor?  It  spreads 
over  every  subject  and  it's  not  necessarily  pro- 
fane because  it  touches  on  clothes  at  church.  I 
suppose  you  think  there  is  nothing  funny  about 
the  Reverend  Gustavus  Adolphus  Larsen,  and 
you  have  forgotten  how  you  giggled  that  Sun- 
day when  he  announced  from  the  pulpit  that  his 
text  was  taken  from  St.  Paul's  'Efistle  to  the 
Epeesians.' ' 

"He's  always  getting  mixed,"  here  put  in 
Molly,  who  at  certain  stages  in  the  warm  discus- 
sions between  Nance  and  Judy  always  sounded 
a  pacifying  note.  "They  do  say  that  he  was  talk- 


VESPEKS  129 

ing  to  Miss  Walker  about  one  of  the  faculty 
pews,  and  he  said :  'Do  you  occupew  this  pi  ?' ' 

This  was  too  much  for  Nance's  severity,  and 
she  broke  down  and  laughed  gaily  with  the 
others. 

"He's  a  funny  little  man,"  she  admitted,  "but 
he's  well  meaning." 

"Hurry  up,"  admonished  Judy;  "it's  twenty 
minutes  of  four  and  I  want  to  get  a  good  seat 
this  afternoon." 

"You  want  to  show  off  your  new  fashionable 
headgear,  you  mean,  Miss  Vanity,"  said  Nance, 
pinning  on  her  neat  brown  velvet  toque  and 
squinting  at  herself  in  the  mirror. 

"Oh,  me,"  thought  Molly,  "I  wish  I  had  a  de- 
cent garment  to  show  off." 

She  had  intended  to  buy  some  clothes  that  au- 
tumn from  a  purchasing  agent  who  came  several 
times  a  year  to  Wellington  with  catalogues  and 
samples,  but  she  had  been  afraid  to  spend  any  of 
the  money  she  had  earned  because  of  the  pre- 
carious state  of  the  family  finances. 

She  ran  her  hatpin  through  her  old  soft  gray 


130  MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
felt,  which  had  a  bright  blue  wing  at  one  side, 
and  slipped  on  the  coat  of  her  last  winter's  gray 
suit.  Then  she  drew  white  yarn  gloves  over  her 
kid  ones,  because  she  had  no  muff  and  her  hands 
were  always  frozen,  and  stoically  marched  across 
the  campus  with  her  friends. 

The  Chapel  was  already  crowded  when  the 
girls  arrived.  They  had  not  heard  that  the  Rev. 
Gustavus's  pulpit  was  to  be  filled  that  afternoon 
by  a  preacher  from  New  York.  At  any  rate, 
they  had  to  sit  in  the  little  balcony,  which  com- 
manded a  better  view  of  the  minister  than  it  did 
of  the  congregation.  He  was  a  nice-looking 
young  man,  with  an  unaffected  manner,  and  he 
preached  to  the  packed  congregation  as  if  he 
were  talking  quietly  and  simply  to  one  person; 
at  least,  it  seemed  so  to  Molly.  The  sermon  was 
a  short  address  on  "Faith."  It  contained  no  im- 
passioned eloquence  nor  fiery  exhortations,  but 
it  impressed  the  students  profoundly. 

"Don't  try  to  instruct  God  about  the  manage- 
ment of  your  lives,"  he  said,  "any  more  than  you 
would  direct  a  wise  and  kind  master  who  em- 


VESPEES  131 

ployed  you  to  work  on  his  estate.  All  the  Great 
Master  asks  of  you  is  to  work  well  and  honestly. 
The  reward  is  sure  to  come.  You  cannot  hurry 
it  and  you  cannot  make  it  greater  than  you  de- 
serve. It  is  useless  to  struggle  and  rage  inward- 
ly. Is  not  that  being  rather  like  a  spoiled  child, 
who  lies  on  the  floor  and  kicks  and  screams  be- 
cause his  mother  won't  give-  him  any  more  cake  ? 
Just  put  your  affairs  in  the  hands  of  God  and  go 
quietly  along,  doing  the  best  you  can.  All  of  a 
sudden  the  conditions  you  once  struggled  against 
will  cease  to  exist,  and  before  you  have  realized 
it,  the  thing  you  asked  for  is  yours." 

Lots  of  people,  the  minister  said,  prayed  a 
great  deal  without  believing  that  their  prayers 
would  be  heard.  It  reminded  him  of  a  little  anec- 
dote. 

"One  Sunday  morning  during  a  terrible 
drought  a  country  preacher  knelt  in  the  midst 
of  his  family  at  home  and  prayed  earnestly  for 
rain.  When  it  was  time  to  start  for  church,  the 
minister  noticed  that  his  little  daughter  was 
carrying  an  umbrella. 


132       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

"  'Why  do  you  take  an  umbrella,  my  child?'  he 
asked,  glancing  at  the  cloudless  sky. 

"  'Didn't  you  just  pray  for  rain,  father  ?'  she 
answered. 

"All  the  learning  of  the  ages  is  not  greater 
than  the  simple  faith  of  a  little  child,"  finished 
the  young  preacher. 

And  now  the  sermon  was  over  and  the  girls 
were  chatting  in  groups  outside  the  Chapel,  or 
strolling  along  the  sidewalk  arm  in  arm.  Molly 
had  withdrawn  from  her  companions  for  a  mo- 
ment and  was  standing  alone  in  a  corner  of  the 
vestibule. 

"I'm  afraid  I've  been  acting  just  like  the  little 
child  who  threw  himself  on  the  floor  and  kicked 
and  screamed  for  more  cake,"  she  was  thinking. 
"I  suppose  another  year  at  college  is  just  like  a 
nice  big  hunk  of  chocolate  cake  and  it  wouldn't 
be  good  for  mental  digestion.  I  might  as  well 
stop  struggling  and  begin  to  cram  mathematics. 
That's  the  hardest  thing  I  have,  and  I  ought  to 
get  in  as  much  of  it  as  I  can  before  I  go." 


VESPERS  133 

"Perhaps  you  won't  have  to  go  at  all,"  spoke 
another  voice  in  her  mind. 

But  Molly  couldn't  see  it  that  way.  Other  let- 
ters from  her  mother  had  made  it  clear  to  her 
that  no  more  money  could  be  raised.  There  was 
a  good  place  waiting  for  her  to  step  into,  how- 
ever, in  a  small  private  school  made  up  of  chil- 
dren who  lived  in  the  neighborhood.  She  could 
come  home  after  the  mid-year  examinations  when 
the  present  teacher  in  the  school  was  planning 
to  be  married. 

"Oh,  Miss  Brown,"  someone  said.  Molly 
looked  up  quickly.  It  was  President  Walker. 
"Will  you  walk  along  with  me?  I  had  a  letter 
from  your  mother  last  night  and  I  want  to  speak 
to  you  about  it." 

The  President  was  a  very  democratic  and 
motherly  woman  who  not  only  guided  the  af- 
fairs of  the  college  with  a  wise  hand,  but  kept 
in  personal  touch  with  her  girls,  and  it  was  not 
unusual  to  see  her  walking  home  from  Vespers 
with  several  students.  This  time,  however,  she 
took  Molly's  arm  and  led  her  down  the  village 


134      MOLLY  BKOWN'S  SOPHOMOKE  DAYS 
street  without  asking  any  of  the  others  to  join 
her. 

The  young  girl  was  very  sensible  of  the  honor 
paid  her,  thus  singled  out  by  the  President  to 
walk  back  to  college.  She  felt  a  shy  pleasure  in 
the  sensation  they  created  as  the  crowd  of 
students  parted  to  let  them  pass. 

"I  am  very,  very  sorry  to  receive  this  news 
from  your  mother,  Miss  Brown,"  began  the 
President.  "I  suppose  you  know  what  it  is?" 

"You  mean  about  leaving  college,  Miss 
Walker?" 

"Yes.  It's  really  a  great  distress  to  me  to 
think  that  one  of  my  Queen's  girls  especially 
must  give  up  in  the  middle  of  her  course.  In- 
stead of  listening  to  that  young  man  at  Vespers, 
I  was  thinking  and  thinking  about  this  unwel- 
come news." 

Molly  smiled.  She  had  managed  to  listen  to 
the  preaching  and  to  think  about  her  affairs  at 
the  same  time,  because  they  somehow  seemed  to 
fit  together.  Once  she  almost  felt  that  perhaps 
he  knew  all  about  her  case  and  was  preaching 


VESPEES  135 

to  her.  But,  of  course,  everybody  had  problems 
and  lots  of  the  girls  thought  the  same  thing,  no 
doubt, — Madeleine  Petit,  for  instance. 

"Is  there  no  possible  way  it  could  be  arranged?" 
went  on  the  President.  "Is  this  decision  of  your 
mother's  final?" 

Evidently  Mrs.  Brown  had  not  explained  why 
Molly  was  obliged  to  come  home. 

"Oh,  she  didn't  decide  it,"  answered  the  young 
girl,  quickly.  "It's  because — because  the  money's 
gone — lost." 

"I  suspected  it  was  something  of  that  sort," 
went  on  the  President.  "Now,  there  is  a  way, 
Miss  Brown,  by  which  you  could  remain  if  you 
would  be  willing  to  leave  Queen's  Cottage.  I  am 
in  charge  of  a  Student  Fund  for  just  such  cases 
as  yours.  This  provides  for  tuition  and  board, — 
not  on  the  campus,  but  in  the  village.  You're 
making  something  now  tutoring  the  little  Japan- 
ese girl,  I  understand.  That's  good.  That  will 
help  along.  You  will  have  to  manufacture  some 
excuse  to  your  friends  about  leaving  Queen's. 


136      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
Otherwise,  the  fund  arrangement  may  remain 
a  secret  between  you  and  me." 

Miss  Walker  pressed  the  girl's  hand  and 
smiled  kindly  as  she  searched  her  face  for  some 
sign  of  gladness  and  relief  at  this  offer. 

Molly  tried  to  smile  back. 

"We'll  leave  everything  as  it  is  until  the  end 
of  this  semester,"  continued  the  President. 

"Thank  you  very,  very  much,"  Molly  said, 
making  a  great  effort  to  keep  her  voice  from 
sounding  shaky. 

Leave  Queen's !  Was  it  possible  the  President 
didn't  know  that  life  at  Queen's  was  the  best 
part  of  college  to  her?  Would  there  be  any 
pleasure  left  if  she  had  to  tear  herself  away 
from  her  beloved  chums  and  take  up  quarters  in 
the  village,  living  on  a  charity  fund? 

When  she  separated  from  Miss  Walker  at  the 
McLeans'  front  door,  she  was  so  filled  with  in- 
ward lamentations  and  weeping  that  she  could 
scarcely  say  good-night  to  the  President,  who 
looked  somewhat  puzzled  at  the  girl's  still  pale 
face. 


VESPERS  137 

Rushing  back  to  Queen's,  Molly  flung  herself 
through  the  front  door  and  tore  upstairs.  On 
the  landing  she  bumped  into  Judith  Blount,  who 
gave  her  a  sullen,  angry  look. 

"Please  be  careful  next  time  and  don't  take 
up  the  whole  stairs,"  exclaimed  that  young 
woman  rudely. 

Molly  glanced  at  her  wildly.  What  right  had 
she  to  talk,  this  wretch  of  a  girl  who  could  re- 
main at  Queen's  and  live  on  other  people's 
money?  Oh,  oh,  oh!  Misery  of  miseries!  She 
rushed  up  the  second  flight.  She  was  having 
what  Judy  called  "the  dry  weeps."  At  the  door 
of  Otoyo's  room  she  paused.  It  was  half  open 
and  the  little  Japanese  was  sitting  cross-legged 
on  the  floor  with  a  lamp  beside  her,  studying. 

"May  I  come  in?" 

"With  much  gladness,"  answered  Otoyo,  ris- 
ing and  bowing  ceremoniously. 

"I  want  to  stay  in  here  a  little  while,  Otoyo, 
away  from  other  people.  May  I  sit  here  by  the 
window  in  this  big  chair?  Go  on  with  your  les- 
sons. I  don't  want  to  talk.  I  wanted  to  be  with 


138      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

someone  who  was  quite  quiet.  I  should  have  been 
obliged  to  hide  in  a  closet  if  you  hadn't  let  me  in." 

"I  am  very  happily  glad  you  came  to  me," 
said  Otoyo. 

She  helped  Molly  off  with  her  coat  and  hat, 
pulled  out  the  Morris  chair  so  that  it  faced  the 
window  and  sat  down  again  quietly  with  her 
book. 

At  the  end  of  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  Otoyo 
began  to  move  noiselessly  about  the  room.  Molly 
was  still  sitting  in  the  big  arm-chair,  her  hands 
clasped  in  her  lap.  Presently  she  became  aware 
that  Otoyo  was  standing  silently  before  her  bear- 
ing a  lacquer  tray  on  which  was  a  cup  of  tea  and 
a  rice  cake. 

"Otoyo,  you  sweet,  little  dear,"  she  said,  plac- 
ing the  tray  on  the  arm  of  the  chair.  She  gulped 
down  the  tea  and  ate  the  cake,  and  while  the 
small  hostess  made  another  cupful,  Molly  con- 
tinued: "Otoyo,  I'm  going  to  let  God  manage 
my  affairs  hereafter.  I'm  not  going  to  lie  on 
the  floor  any  more  and  kick  and  scream  like  a 
spoiled  child  for  another  piece  of  chocolate  cake. 


VESPERS  139 

I  shall  always  carry  an  umbrella  now  when  I 
pray  for  rain,  and  I  mean  to  begin  to-night  to 
polish  up  in  math." 

"I  am  happily  glad,"  said  Otoyo,  giving  her 
a  gentle,  sympathetic  smile. 


CHAPTER   X. 

WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 

There  was  no  happier  girl  in  Wellington  one 
morning  than  Nance  Oldham,  and  all  because 
she  had  been  invited  to  the  Thanksgiving  dance 
at  Exmoor  College.  Nance  had  never  been  to 
a  real  dance  in  her  life,  except  a  "shirtwaist" 
party  at  the  seashore,  where  she  had  been  a  hope- 
less wallflower  because  she  had  known  only  one 
man  in  the  room — her  father.  Now,  there  was 
no  chance  of  being  a  wallflower  at  Exmoor, 
where  a  girl's  card  was  made  out  beforehand, 
and  she  had  that  warm  glow  of  predestined  suc- 
cess from  the  very  beginning  of  the  festivity. 

Molly  and  Judy  were  also  invited  and  the  girls 
were  to  go  over  to  Exmoor  on  the  6.45  trolley 
with  Dr.  and  Mrs.  McLean  and  return  on  the 
10.45  trolley,  permission  having  been  granted 
them  to  stay  up  until  midnight.  Three  other 

140 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL    141 

Wellington  girls  were  bound  for  the  dance  on 
the  same  car.  A  young  teacher  chaperoned  this 
little  company,  of  which  Judith  Blount  was  one. 

"I  wonder  that  Judith  Blount  can  make  up 
her  mind  to  go  to  a  dance,"  Judy  Kean  remarked 
to  Molly.  "She's  been  in  such  a  sullen  rage  for 
so  long,  she's  turned  quite  yellow.  I  don't  think 
she  will  enjoy  it." 

"It  will  do  her  good,"  answered  Molly.  "Danc- 
ing always  makes  people  forget  their  troubles. 
Just  trying  to  be  graceful  puts  one  in  a  good 
humor." 

"The  scientific  reason  is,  child,  that  it  stirs  up 
one's  circulation." 

"And  brooding  is  bad  for  the  circulation," 
added  Molly. 

It  had  been  a  very  gloomy  holiday,  the  skies 
black  and  lowering  and  a  dead,  warm  wind  from 
the  south.  But  there  had  been  no  sign  of  rain, 
and  now,  as  they  alighted  from  the  car  at  Ex- 
moor  station,  they  noticed  that  the  wind  had 
shifted  slightly  to  the  east  and  freshened.  The 
great  blanket  of  frowning  black  had  broken,  and 


142       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

a  myriad  of  small  clouds  were  flying  across  the 
face  of  the  moon  like  a  flock  of  frightened  sheep. 
Molly  shivered.  She  had  often  called  herself 
a  human  barometer  and  her  spirits  were  apt  to 
shift  with  the  wind. 

"The  wind  has  changed,"  she  observed  to  the 
doctor.  "I  feel  it  in  my  bones." 

"Correct,"  said  the  doctor,  scanning  the 
heavens  critically.  "There's  no  flavoring  ex- 
tract so  strong  as  a  drop  of  East  wind.  Let  us 
hope  it  will  hold  back  a  bit  until  after  the 
shindig." 

With  all  its  penetrating  qualities,  however,  the 
drop  of  East  wind  did  not  affect  the  air  in  the 
beautiful  old  dining  hall  of  Exmoor,  used  always 
for  the  larger  entertainments.  Its  polished  hard- 
wood floor  and  paneled  walls,  its  two  great  open 
fireplaces,  in  which  immense  back  logs  glowed 
cheerfully,  made  a  picture  that  drove  away  all 
memory  of  bad  weather. 

Then  the  music  struck  up.  The  dancers 
whirled  and  circled.  Nance  was  in  a  seventh 
heaven.  Her  cheeks  glowed,  her  eyes  shone,  and 


ALL'S   WELL   THAT   ENDS   WELL        143 

she  seemed  to  float  over  the  floor  guided  by  the 
steady  hand  of  young  Andy;  while  his  father 
looked  on  and  smiled  laconically. 

"Every  laddie  maun  hae  his  lassie,"  he  ob- 
served to  his  wife,  "and  it's  gude  luck  for  him 
when  he  draws  a  plain  one  with  a  bonnie  brown 
eye." 

"She's  not  plain,"  objected  Mrs.  McLean. 

"She  has  no  furbelows  in  face  nor  dress  that 
I  can  see,"  answered  the  doctor. 

"They're  just  a  boy  and  a  girl,  Andrew.  Don't 
be  anticipating.  There's  no  telling  how  often 
they  may  change  off  before  the  settling  time 
comes." 

"And  was  it  your  ainsel'  that  changed  so 
often?"  asked  the  doctor,  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye. 

"Nay,  nay,  laddie,"  she  protested,  leaning  on 
the  doctor's  arm  affectionately,  "but  those  were 
steadier  days,  I'm  thinking." 

"There's  not  so  muckle  change,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, "when  it  comes  to  sweethearting." 

Many  old-fashioned  dances  were  introduced 


144      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

that  night:  the  cottage  lancers,  and  Sir  Roger 
de  Coverly,  led  off  by  the  doctor  and  his  wife, 
whose  old-world  curtseys  were  very  amusing  to 
the  young  dancers. 

And  while  the  fun  waxed  fast  and  furious  in- 
doors, outside  queer  things  were  happening.  The 
South  wind,  gently  and  insistently  battling  with 
the  East  wind,  had  conquered  him  for  the  mo- 
ment. All  the  little  clouds  that  had  been  scuttling 
across  the  heavens  before  the  East  wind's  icy 
breath,  now  melted  together  into  a  tumbled,  fleecy 
mass.  Snowflakes  were  falling,  softly  and 
silently,  clothing  the  campus  and  fields,  the  val- 
leys and  hills  beyond  in  a  blanket  of  white.  Then 
the  angry  East  wind  returned  from  his  lair  with 
a  new  weapon:  a  drenching  sheet  of  cold,  pene- 
trating rain,  which  changed  to  drops  of  ice  as  it 
fell  and  tapped  on  the  high  windows  of  the  dining 
hall  a  warning  rat-tat-tat  quite  drowned  in  the 
strains  of  music.  The  South  wind,  conquered 
and  crushed,  crept  away  and  the  East  wind,  sum- 
moning his  brother  from  the  North  to  share  the 
fun,  played  a  trick  on  the  world  which  people  in 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL  145 
that  part  of  the  country  will  not  soon  forget. 
Together  they  covered  the  soft,  white  blanket 
with  a  sheet  of  ice  as  hard  and  slippery  as  plate 
glass.  At  last,  having  enjoyed  themselves  im- 
mensely, they  retired.  Out  came  the  moon  again, 
shining  in  the  frozen  stillness,  like  a  great  round 
lantern. 

In  the  meantime,  the  dance  went  on  and  joy 
was  unconfined.  Nobody  had  the  faintest  inkling 
of  the  drama  which  had  been  acted  between  the 
East  and  the  South  winds. 

Most  unconscious  of  all  was  Molly,  who,  hav- 
ing danced  herself  into  a  state  of  exuberant 
spirits,  sat  down  to  rest  with  Lawrence  Upton 
in  an  ingle-nook  of  one  of  the  big  fireplaces.  As 
chance  would  have  it,  they  were  joined  by  Judith 
Blount  and  a  very  dull  young  man,  who,  Law- 
rence informed  Molly,  had  more  money  than 
brains.  Judith  had  not  noticed  Molly  at  first. 
Probably  she  would  never  have  chosen  that  par- 
ticular spot  if  she  had.  But  the  destinies  of  these 
two  girls  had  been  ordained  to  touch  at  intervals 
in  their  lives  and  whenever  the  meeting  occurred 


146       MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

something  unfortunate  always  happened.  They 
were  exactly  like  two  fluids  which  would  not 
mix  comfortably  together.  There  was  a  general 
movement  of  partners  for  supper  at  this  juncture 
and  the  two  girls  found  themselves  alone  for  the 
moment  while  their  escorts  departed  for  coffee 
and  sandwiches. 

"Are  you  having  a  good  time?"  Molly  asked, 
glancing  at  Judith  timidly. 

She  would  have  preferred  to  have  said  nothing 
whatever,  but  she  had  made  a  compact  with  her- 
self to  try  and  overcome  her  dislike  for  this  girl 
whom  she  had  distrusted  from  the  moment  of 
their  first  meeting  at  the  railroad  station  when 
Mr.  Murphy  had  given  Molly's  baggage  check 
preference. 

"Did  I  appear  to  be  a  wallflower?"  demanded 
Judith  insolently. 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Molly.  "I  didn't 
mean  that  of  course." 

Then  she  sighed  and  turned  toward  the  fire 
with  a  trembly,  unnerved  feeling. 

"I  don't  believe  I'll  ever  get  used  to  having 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL  147 
people  cross  to  me,"  she  thought.  "It  always 
frightens  me.  I  suppose  I'm  too  sensitive."  She 
began  to  shiver  slightly.  "The  wind  is  surely 
in  the  East  now,"  she  added  to  herself. 

When  the  young  men  came  back  bearing  each 
a  tray  with  supper  for  two,  she  was  grateful  for 
the  cup  of  steaming  coffee. 

"Will  you  hold  this  for  a  minute,  Miss  Molly," 
asked  Lawrence  Upton,  "while  I  get  a  chair  to 
rest  it  on?  Lap  tables  are  about  as  unsteady  as 
tables  on  shipboard." 

Judith's  partner  had  followed  Lawrence's  ex- 
ample, and  presently  the  two  students  were  seen 
hurrying  through  the  throng,  each  pushing  a 
chair  in  front  of  him.  By  some  strange  fatality, 
history  was  to  repeat  itself.  Just  as  he  reached 
the  girls,  the  young  person  who  had  more  money 
than  brains  slipped  on  a  fragment  of  buttered 
bread  which  had  fallen  off  somebody's  plate, 
skidded  along,  bumped  his  chair  into  Lawrence, 
who  lost  his  balance  and  fell  against  poor 
Molly's  tray.  Then,  oh,  dreadful  calamity!  over 


148      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
went  the  cup  of  coffee  straight  onto  Judith's 
yellow  satin  frock. 

Molly  could  have  sunk  into  the  floor  with  the 
misery  of  that  moment,  and  yet  she  had  not  in 
the  least  been  the  cause  of  the  accident.  It  was 
the  small-brained  rich  individual  who  was  to 
blame.  But  Judith  was  not  in  any  condition  to 
reckon  with  original  causes.  Molly  had  been 
carrying  the  tray  with  the  coffee  cups  and  that 
was  enough  for  her.  She  leapt  to  her  feet,  shak- 
ing her  drenched  dress  and  scattering  drops  of 
coffee  in  every  direction. 

"You  awkward,  clumsy  creature!"  she  cried, 
stamping  her  foot  as  she  faced  Molly.  "Why  do 
you  ever  touch  a  coffee  cup?  Are  you  always 
going  to  upset  coffee  on  me  and  my  family?  You 
have  ruined  my  dress.  You  did  it  on  purpose. 
I  saw  you  were  very  angry  a  moment  ago  and 
you  did  it  for  revenge." 

Molly  shrank  back  in  her  seat,  her  face  turn- 
ing from  crimson  to  white  and  back  to  crimson 
again. 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL    149 

"Don't  answer  her,"  said  a  small  voice  in  her 
mind.  "Be  silent!  Be  silent!" 

"But,  Miss  Blount,"  began  her  supper  partner, 
feeling  vaguely  that  justice  must  be  done,  "I 
stumbled,  don't  you  know?  Awfully  awkward 
of  me,  of  course,  but  I  slipped  on  an  infernal 
piece  of  banana  peel  or  something  and  fell  against 
Upton.  Hope  your  gown  isn't  ruined." 

"It  is  ruined,"  cried  Judith,  her  face  trans- 
formed with  rage.  "It's  utterly  ruined  and  she 
did  it.  It  isn't  the  first  time  she's  flung  coffee 
cups  around.  Last  winter  she  ruined  my  cousin's 
new  suit  of  clothes.  She's  the  most  careless, 
awkward,  clumsy  creature  I  ever  saw.  I " 

A  curious  little  group  had  gathered  over  near 
the  fireplace,  but  Judith  was  too  angry  to  care 
who  heard  what  she  was  saying.  In  the  mean- 
time, Lawrence  Upton  had  taken  his  stand  be- 
tween Judith  and  Molly,  feeling  somehow  that 
he  might  protect  poor  Molly  from  the  onslaught. 
Presently  he  took  her  hand  and  drew  it  through 
his  arm. 

"Suppose  we  join  the  McLeans,"  he  said.    "I 


150      MOLLY  BKOWN'S  SOPHOMOBE  DAYS 

see  they  are  having  supper  all  together  over 
there."  As  they  turned  to  leave,  he  said  to 
Judith  in  a  cold,  even  voice  that  seemed  to  bring 
her  back  to  her  senses : 

"I  upset  the  coffee.  Blanchard  fell  against  me 
and  joggled  my  arm.  If  there  is  any  reparation 
I  can  make,  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  it." 

Whereupon,  Judith  departed  to  the  dressing 
room  and  was  not  seen  again  until  it  was  time 
to  leave. 

"What  a  tiger-cat  she  is !"  whispered  Lawrence 
to  Molly,  as  he  led  her  across  the  room. 

Molly  did  not  answer.  She  was  afraid  to  trust 
her  voice  just  then,  and  still  more  afraid  of  what 
she  might  say  if  she  dared  speak. 

"What  was  all  that  rumpus  over  there?"  de- 
manded Judy  when  the  young  people  had  joined 
their  friends. 

"Oh,  just  a  little  volcanic  activity  on  the  part 
of  Mount  ^Etna  and  a  good  deal  of  slinging  of 
hot  lava.  Miss  Molly  and  I  are  refugees  from 
the  eruption,  and  Mount  ^Etna  has  gone  up- 
stairs." 


ALL'S    WELL   THAT   ENDS    WELL        151 

"You  mean  Miss  ^Etna  Blount?"  asked  Judy. 

"The  same,"  said  Lawrence. 

When  it  was  time  for  the  Wellington  party  to 
catch  the  trolley  car  home,  they  emerged  from 
the  warm,  cheerful  dining  hall  into  a  world  of 
dazzling  whiteness.  The  trees  were  clothed  in 
it,  and  the  ground  was  covered  with  a  crust  of 
ice  as  hard  and  shining  as  marble. 

A  path  of  ashes  was  sprinkled  before  them, 
so  that  they  walked  safely  as  far  as  the  station. 

"Heaven  help  us  at  the  other  end,"  Mrs.  Mc- 
Lean exclaimed,  clinging  to  the  doctor's  arm. 

The  car  was  late  in  arriving  at  Exmoor  sta- 
tion. At  last  it  hove  into  sight,  moving  at  a  hesi- 
tating gait  along  the  slippery  rails.  But  it  had 
a  comfortably  warm  interior  and  they  were  glad 
to  climb  in  out  of  the  bitter  cold. 

"All  aboard !"  called  the  conductor.  "Last  car 
to-night." 

There  is  always  a  gloomy  fatality  in  the  an- 
nouncement, "Last  car  to-night."  It  is  just  as 
if  a  doctor  might  say:  "Nothing  more  can  be 
done," 


152      MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

Clang,  clang,  went  the  bell,  and  they  moved 
slowly  forward. 

After  an  age  of  slipping  and  sliding,  frequent 
stopping  and  starting  and  exchanges  of  loud  con- 
fidences between  the  motorman  and  the  conduc- 
tor, the  car  came  to  a  dead  stop. 

Dr.  McLean,  who  had  been  sound  asleep  and 
snoring  loudly,  waked  up. 

"Bless  my  soul,  are  we  there?"  he  demanded. 

"No,  sir,  and  far  from  it,"  answered  the  con- 
ductor, who  had  opened  the  door  and  come  inside, 
beating  his  hands  together  for  warmth. 

"Far  from  it?  What  do  you  mean  by  that, 
my  good  man?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"There  ain't  no  more  power,  sir,"  answered 
the  man.  "The  trolley's  just  a  solid  cable  of  ice 
and  budge  she  won't.  You  couldn't  move  her 
with  a  derrick." 

"But  what  are  we  to  do?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"I  couldn't  say,  sir,  unless  you  walked.  It's 
only  a  matter  of  about  two  miles.  Otherwise, 
you'd  have  to  spend  the  night  here  and  it'll  be 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL    153 

a  cold  place.  There  ain't  no  more  heat,  is  there, 
Jim?" 

"There  ain't,"  was  Jim's  brief  reply. 

"I  guess  Jim  and  I'll  foot  it  into  Wellington 
and  the  best  you  can  do  is  to  come  along." 

The  doctor  and  his  wife  conferred  with  the 
young  teacher  who  had  chaperoned  the  other 
party.  The  question  was,  would  it  not  be  a 
greater  risk  to  walk  two  miles  in  thin-soled  shoes 
and  party  dresses  over  that  wilderness  of  ice  than 
to  remain  snugly  in  the  car  until  they  could  get 
help?  The  motorman  and  conductor  were  well 
protected  from  the  cold  and  from  slipping,  too, 
with  heavy  overcoats  and  arctic  shoes.  While 
they  were  talking,  these  two  individuals  took 
their  departure,  letting  in  a  cold  blast  of  air  as 
they  slid  the  door  back  to  get  out. 

The  Wellington  crowd  sat  huddled  together, 
hoping  to  keep  warm  by  human  contact.  They 
tried  to  beguile  the  weary  hours  with  conversa- 
tion, but  time  dragged  heavily  and  the  car  grew 
colder  and  colder.  Some  of  the  girls  began  to 


154      MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

move  up  and  down,  practicing  physical  culture 
exercises  and  beating  their  hands  together. 

"I  think  it  would  be  better  to  walk,"  announced 
Mrs.  McLean  at  last.  "We  are  in  much  greater 
danger  of  freezing  to  death  sitting  here  than 
moving.  We'll  stick  to  the  track.  It  won't  be 
so  slippery  between  the  rails." 

Even  the  doctor  was  relieved  at  this  sugges- 
tion, fearful  as  he  was  of  slipping  on  the  ice. 
The  gude  wife  was  right,  as  she  always  was,  and 
the  lassies  had  better  take  the  risk  and  come  along 
quickly.  Before  they  realized  it,  they  were  on 
the  track  with  faces  turned  hopefully  toward 
Wellington.  Scarcely  had  they  taken  six  steps, 
before  three  of  the  girls  tumbled  flat,  and  while 
they  were  picking  themselves  up,  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
McLean  sat  down  plump  on  the  ice,  hand  in  hand, 
like  two  astonished  children.  It  was  quite  im- 
possible to  keep  from  laughing  at  this  ludicrous 
situation,  especially  when  the  doctor's  great 
"haw-haw"  made  the  air  tremble.  The  ones 
who  were  standing  helped  the  ones  who  had 
fallen  to  rise  and  fell  themselves  in  the  effort. 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL    155 

"If  we  only  had  on  skates,"  cried  Judy, 
"wouldn't  it  be  glorious?  We  could  skate  any- 
where, right  across  the  fields  or  along  the  road. 
It's  just  like  a  sea  of  solid  ice." 

For  an  hour  they  took  their  precarious  way 
along  the  track,  which  was  now  on  the  edge 
of  a  high  embankment. 

"A  grand  place  for  coasting,"  remarked  Judy, 
peeping  over  the  edge. 

Suddenly  her  heels  went  over  her  head  and 
her  horrified  friends  beheld  her  sliding  backwards 
down  the  hill. 

"Are  you  hurt  at  all,  my  lass?"  called  the  doc- 
tor, peeping  fearfully  over  the  side,  and  holding 
onto  his  wife  as  a  drowning  man  catches  at  a 
life  preserver. 

"Hurt?  No/'  cried.  Judy,  convulsed  with 
laughter. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  crawl  back?"  asked 
Mrs.  McLean  doubtfully. 

Then  Judy  began  the  most  difficult  ascent  of 
her  life,  on  hands  and  knees.  There  was  nothing 


156       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

to  take  hold  of  and,  when  she  had  got  half-way 
up,  back  she  slipped  to  the  bottom  again. 

A  second  time  she  had  almost  reached  the  top 
when  she  lost  her  footing  and  once  more  slipped 
to  the  base  of  the  embankment. 

"You'd  better  go  on  without  me,"  she  cried, 
half  sobbing  and  half  laughing. 

The  doctor  was  very  uncomfortable.  Not  for 
worlds  would  he  have  put  foot  outside  the  trolley 
rails,  but  something  had  to  be  done. 

"Let's  make  a  human  ladder,"  suggested  Mol- 
ly, "as  they  do  in  melodramas.  I'll  go  first. 
Nance,  you  take  my  foot  and  someone  hold  on 
to  yours  and  so  on.  Then,  Judy  can  climb  up, 
catching  hold  of  us." 

The  doctor  considered  this  a  good  scheme  and 
the  human  chain  was  accordingly  formed,  the 
doctor  himself  grasping  the  ankle  of  the  last  vol- 
unteer, who  happened  to  be  Judith  Blount.  But 
hardly  had  Judy  commenced  the  upward  climb, 
when  the  doctor's  heels  went  over  his  head  and 
the  entire  human  ladder  found  itself  huddled 
together  at  the  foot  of  the  embankment. 


ALL'S   WELL   THAT   ENDS    WELL         157 

"It's  a  case  of  every  mon  for  himself  and  the 
divvel  tak'  the  hindmost,"  exclaimed  the  doctor, 
sitting  up  stiffly  and  rubbing  his  shins.  "Help 
yoursel's,  lassies.  I  can  do  nae  mair." 

Some  of  them  reached  the  track  at  last  and 
some  of  them  didn't,  and  those  who  couldn't 
make  it  were  Molly  and  Judith  Blount. 

"You'll  have  to  follow  along  as  best  you  can 
down  there,"  called  Mrs.  McLean,  grasping  her 
husband's  arm.  "We'll  keep  an  eye  on  you  from 
above." 

Once  more  the  belated  revellers  started  on  their 
way,  while  Molly  and  Judith  Blount  pursued  a 
difficult  path  between  a  frozen  creek  and  the 
trolley  embankment. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  GREAT  SLEET  OF  19 — . 

Many  a  fall  and  many  a  bruise  they  got  that 
night  as  they  crept  along  the  frozen  path.  At 
last  they  reached  a  point  where  the  creek  had 
been  turned  abruptly  from  its  bed  and  passed 
through  a  culvert  under  the  embankment.  Here 
the  path  also  changed  its  course  and  headed  for 
the  golf  links  of  the  college. 

"They  can  never  get  down  the  embankment 
and  we  can  never  get  up,"  remarked  Judith,  who 
appeared  to  have  forgotten  that  she  had  lately 
been  a  human  volcano.  "Why  can't  we  take  the 
short  cut  back?  It  couldn't  be  any  worse  than 
this." 

"Why  not?"  answered  Molly  politely,  although 
it  must  be  confessed  she  was  still  tingling  under 
the  lash  of  Judith's  flaying  tongue,  and  not  one 
word  had  she  spoken  since  they  left  the  others. 

158 


THE    GREAT    SLEET   OF   19—  159 

"Mrs.  McLean,"  called  Judith,  making  a  trum- 
pet of  her  hands,  "we're  going  to  cut  across  the 
golf  links.  It  will  be  easier." 

"But  I'm  afraid  for  you  to  go  alone  at  this 
time  of  night,"  answered  Mrs.  McLean. 

"What  could  harm  them  a  night  like  this?" 
expostulated  her  husband. 

"Very  well,  then.  I  suppose  it's  all  right," 
said  the  distracted  and  wearied  lady. 

"Don't  be  uneasy,  Mrs.  McLean.  You'll  tak' 
the  high  road  and  we'll  tak'  the  low,  but  we'll 
gang  to  Wellington  afore  ye,"  called  Molly 
laughing. 

After  all,  wasn't  it  absurd  enough  to  make  a 
body  laugh — one  man,  eight  helpless  women  slip- 
ping and  sliding  after  him,  and  she  herself  mak- 
ing off  in  the  darkness  with  the  only  enemy  she 
had  ever  known!  She  wished  it  had  been  Judy 
or  Nance.  She  was  sure  they  would  have  giggled 
all  the  way.  But  who  ever  wanted  to  laugh  in 
the  presence  of  this  black-browed,  fierce-tem- 
pered Judith  ? 


160      MOLLY  BKOWN'S  SOPHOMOKE  DAYS 

They  walked  silently  on  for  some  time,  until 
they  came  to  a  little  hill. 

"I  guess  we'll  have  to  crawl  it,"  sighed  Molly. 

Long  before  this,  they  had  pinned  their  long 
skirts  up  around  their  waists,  and  now,  on  hands 
and  knees,  they  began  the  difficult  ascent.  Just 
as  they  reached  the  top,  Molly's  slipper  bag  some- 
how got  away  from  her  and  went  sliding  to  the 
bottom.  Suddenly  both  girls  began  to  laugh. 
They  laughed  until  the  echoes  rang,  and  Molly, 
losing  her  grasp  on  a  bush,  went  sliding  after  the 
bag. 

"Oh,"  laughed  Judith,  "oh,  Molly,  I  shall- 
and  then  the  twigs  she  had  been  clutching  pulled 
out  of  the  ice  and  down  she  went  on  top  of  Molly. 

The  two  girls  sat  up  and  looked  at  each  other. 
They  felt  warmer  and  happier  from  the  laugh. 

"Judith,"  exclaimed  Molly,  suddenly,  "I  could 
never  laugh  with  any  one  like  that  and  not  be 
friends.  It's  almost  like  accepting  hospitality. 
Shall  we  be  friends  again  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  Judith  eagerly.  "I  am  sorry 
I  was  rude  to-night  about  the  coffee,  Molly.  You 


THE  GREAT  SLEET  OF  19—  161 

know  it's  my  terrible  temper.  Once  it  gets  a 
start,  I  can't  seem  to  hold  it  in,  and  I've  had  a 
great  deal  to  try  me  lately.  I  apologize  to  you 
now.  Will  you  accept  my  apology?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  Molly  assured  her.  "Come 
along,  let's  try  again.  Once  we  get  to  the  top  of 
this  little  'dis-incline,'  as  an  old  colored  man  at 
home  would  call  it,  we'll  be  on  the  links." 

The  girls  both  reached  the  summit  at  the  same 
moment,  and  as  they  scanned  the  white  expanse 
before  them,  they  exclaimed  in  frightened  whis- 
pers: 

"There  comes  a  man." 

Instantly  they  slid  back  to  the  bottom  again 
and  lay  in  a  heap,  gasping  and  giggling. 

"Where  shall  we  go?  What  shall  we  do?" 
exclaimed  Judith. 

"Nothing,"  answered  Molly.  "We  can  hardly 
crawl,  much  less  run,  but  I  suppose  he  can't 
either,  so  perhaps  we  are  as  safe  here  as  any- 
where." 

"But  what  man  except  a  burglar  could  be 


162       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
prowling  around  Wellington  at  this  hour?"  whis- 
pered Judith. 

"I  can't  think  of  anyone,  but  I  should  think 
no  sensible  burglar  would  come  out  a  night  like 
this.  Besides,  do  burglars  ever  come  to  Welling- 
ton?" 

"Once  there  was  one,  only  he  wasn't  a  real 
burglar.  He  was  a  lunatic  who  had  escaped  from 
an  asylum  near  Exmoor." 

"Oh,  heavens,  Judith,  a  lunatic?  I'd  rather 
meet  ten  burglars.  After  all,  only  a  lunatic 
would  come  out  on  such  a  night.  Can't  we  run?" 

Molly  had  a  fear  of  crazy  people  that  she  had 
never  been  able  to  conquer. 

They  rose  unsteadily  on  their  frozen  feet  and 
began  hurrying  back  in  the  direction  of  the  trol- 
ley embankment.  As  they  ran,  they  heard  a  long, 
sliding,  scraping  sound.  Evidently  the  man  had 
slid  down  the  little  hill.  They  could  hear  the 
sound  of  his  footsteps  on  the  ice.  He  was  run- 
ning after  them.  At  last  he  called: 

"Wait,  wait,  whoever  you  are.  I'm  not  going 
to  hurt  you," 


THE   GEEAT   SLEET   OF    19—  163 

In  another  moment  he  had  caught  up  with 
them.  Oh,  joy  of  joys,  it  was  Professor  Green, 
wearing  a  thick  gray  sweater  and  a  cap  with  ear 
muffs.  With  a  cry  of  relief,  Judith  flung  herself 
on  her  cousin's  neck  while  Molly  rather  timidly 
clasped  his  arm.  She  felt  she  could  have  hugged 
him,  too,  if  he  had  only  been  a  relation. 

"We  thought  you  were  an  escaped  lunatic," 
she  exclaimed. 

"I  am,"  he  answered,  "at  least  I've  been  nearly 
crazy  trying  to  get  news  of  you."  He  took  her 
hand  and  drew  it  firmly  through  his  arm,  while 
Judith  appropriated  his  other  arm.  "They  tele- 
phoned over  from  Exmoor  to  know  if  you  had 
reached  Wellington  safely.  We  found  at  the 
village  that  the  car  had  not  arrived.  Then  about 
twenty  minutes  ago  they  called  us  from  the  car 
station  to  say  that  the  conductor  and  motorman 
had  walked  but  that  you  had  decided  to  remain 
in  the  car  all  night.  I  thought  I  had  better  go 
over  and  persuade  you  not  to  freeze  to  death  by 
degrees.  I  am  glad  you  decided  to  walk.  Where 
are  the  others?" 


164      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"They  have  gone  on  by  the  track,"  answered 
Molly.  "We  slipped  down  the  embankment  and 
couldn't  crawl  up  again.  Perhaps  you  could 
catch  them,  if  you  branched  off  here  and  took 
the  other  road." 

"Never  mind,"  answered  the  Professor,  tuck- 
ing her  arm  more  tightly  through  his.  "Dr. 
McLean  can  look  after  the  others,  now  that  his 
burdens  are  lightened  by  two.  I'd  better  see  you 
across  this  skating  rink.  Mrs.  Murphy  is  up 
waiting  for  you.  I  stopped  and  told  her  to  get 
hot  soup  and  water  bottles  and  things  ready." 

"You're  a  dear,  Cousin  Edwin,"  exclaimed 
Judith.  "You  are  always  thinking  of  other 
people." 

"I  expect  the  old  doctor  will  be  a  good  deal 
knocked  up  by  this  little  jaunt,"  went  on  the  Pro- 
fessor, not  taking  the  slightest  notice  of  Judith's 
expressions  of  gratitude,  the  first  Molly  had  ever 
heard  her  make  about  anything. 

It  was  half -past  two  o'clock  when  they  reached 
Queen's  Cottage,  just  ten  minutes  before  the 
others  arrived. 


THE    GEEAT    SLEET   OF   19—  165 

"It's  a  good  thing  you  found  us,"  Molly  said 
to  the  Professor  as  he  helped  them  up  the  steps. 
"I  believe  we'd  have  been  crawling  over  those 
links  another  hour  or  so  if  you  hadn't." 

"I  can  never  explain  what  made  me  cut  across 
the  links,"  he  answered.  "I  had  my  face  turned 
toward  the  other  road  when  something  urged  me 
to  go  that  way." 

Dr.  McLean  always  insisted  that  it  was  con- 
tinuous giggling  that  kept  them  all  from  freez- 
ing that  bitter  night.  Judith  Blount  was  the  only 
one  in  the  party  who  suffered  from  the  experi- 
ence. She  spent  a  week  in  the  Infirmary  with  a 
deep  cold  and  sore  throat. 

"You  see,"  explained  Judy  Kean  sagely  to  her 
two  friends,  "her  system  was  weakened  by  that 
awful  fit  of  temper ;  she  lost  all  mental  and  bodily 
poise  and  took  the  first  disease  that  came  her 
way." 

"She  certainly  lost  all  bodily  poise,"  laughed 
Molly.  "I  didn't  have  any  more  than  she  did. 
We  slipped  around  like  two  helpless  infants." 

"But  you  didn't  take  cold/'  said  Judy. 


166       MOLLY  BKOWN'S  SOPHOMOKE  DAYS 

"I've  made  up  my  mind  not  to  have  any  colds 
this  winter,"  announced  Molly  seriously.  "After 
all,  there's  a  good  deal  in  just  declining  to  enter- 
tain them.  I  think  the  grip  is  a  sort  of  bully  who 
attacks  people  who  are  afraid  of  him  and  keeps 
away  from  the  ones  who  are  not  cowards." 

The  three  girls  spent  half  a  day  in  bed  sleeping 
off  their  weariness,  and  on  Friday  afternoon  they 
were  able  to  call  on  Mrs.  McLean,  who,  being  a 
hardy  Scotchwoman,  was  none  the  worse  from 
the  walk.  The  doctor,  she  said,  had  been  up  since 
seven  o'clock  attending  to  his  patients. 

"The  truth  is,"  she  added,  "he  would  not  have 
missed  the  sight  for  anything — the  whole  world 
turned  into  a  skating  rink  and  the  campus  the 
centre  of  it." 

Everybody  in  Wellington  who  could  wear 
skates  was  out  that  afternoon.  The  campus  and 
golf  links,  as  well  as  the  lake,  were  covered  with 
circling,  gliding  figures.  The  best  skaters  coasted 
down  hill  on  their  skates,  as  men  do  on  snow 
shoes.  They  went  with  incredible  speed  and  the 


THE    GKEAT    SLEET    OF    19—  167 

impetus  carried  them  up  the  next  hill  without  any 
effort. 

Molly  had  seen  very  little  skating  at  home.  She 
had  learned  as  a  child,  but  as  she  grew  up  the 
sport  had  not  appealed  to  her,  because  somebody 
was  always  falling  in  and  the  ice  never  lasted 
longer  than  a  day  or  so.  Now,  however,  the  pic- 
ture of  the  circling,  swaying  crowd  of  skaters 
thrilled  her  with  a  new  desire  to  see  if  she  had 
forgotten  how  to  balance  herself  on  steel  runners. 

"Isn't  it  beautiful?"  she  cried.  "I  never  saw 
anything  so  graceful.  They  are  like  birds.  First 
they  soar.  Then  they  flap  their  wings  and  soar 
again." 

"Flap  their  feet,  you  mean/'  interrupted  Judy, 
"and  woe  to  her  who  flops  instead  of  flaps." 

Mary  Stewart  came  sailing  up  to  them,  gave 
a  beautiful  curving  turn  and  then  stopped. 

"Isn't  this  glorious  sport?"  she  cried,  her 
cheeks  glowing  with  exercise.  "Has  your  Presi- 
dent told  you  about  the  skating  carnival?  It's 
just  been  decided,  and  I  suppose  you  haven't  seen 


168      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

her  yet.  It's  to  take  place  to-morrow  night. 
Won't  it  be  beautiful?" 

"What  fun!"  cried  Molly.  "What  a  wonder- 
ful sight!" 

"Now,  Molly,  you  are  to  wrap  up  very  warm," 
continued  Mary,  "no  matter  what  kind  of  a  cos- 
tume you  decide  to  wear.  No  cheesecloth  Lib- 
erty masquerades  will  go,  remember." 

"Oh,  but  I  can't  be  in  the  carnival.  I  haven't 
any  skates,"  said  Molly. 

"I  have  another  pair,"  answered  Mary  quickly. 
"I'll  bring  them  over  to  you  later." 

Molly  never  guessed  that  this  loving  friend 
skated  straight  down  to  the  village  that  very  in- 
stant and  bought  a  pair  of  skates  screwed  onto 
stout  shoes  at  the  general  store.  Tossing  away 
the  wrapping  paper  and  smearing  the  shoes  with 
snow  and  ashes  to  take  off  the  new  look,  she  de- 
livered them  at  Queen's  before  supper. 

"It's  lucky  I  knew  what  number  Molly  wore," 
she  said  to  herself,  as  she  sailed  up  the  campus 
on  her  Canadian  skates,  with  strokes  as  sweep- 
ingly  broad  and  generous  as  her  own  fine  nature. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

TH£   SKATING    CARNIVAI,. 

All  fears  of  a  thaw  on  the  heels  of  this  unprec- 
edented cold  wave  were  put  to  flight  next  morn- 
ing. The  thermometer  hovered  at  four  degrees 
above  zero  and  the  air  was  dry  and  sparkling. 
Only  those  who  remained  indoors  and  lingered 
over  the  registers  felt  the  cold. 

There  was  a  great  deal  to  be  done  before  even- 
ing. Costumes  had  to  be  devised,  bonfires  built 
along  the  lake  and  at  intervals  on  the  links,  lan- 
terns hung  everywhere  possible  and,  lastly,  a 
quick  rehearsal.  The  best  skaters  were  chosen 
to  give  exhibitions  of  fancy  skating;  there  were 
to  be  several  races  and  a  grand  march. 

Molly  learned  the  night  before  that  a  sense  of 
balance  having  once  been  acquired  is  never  lost. 
After  supper  she  had  ventured  out  on  the  campus 
with  Judy  and  Nance,  who  were  both  excellent 

169 


170      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

skaters.  With  a  grace  that  was  peculiarly  her 
own  in  spite  of  the  first  unsteadiness,  Molly  had 
been  able  to  skate  to  the  Quadrangle.  There, 
removing  her  skating  shoes,  and  putting  on  slip- 
pers, she  had  skipped  upstairs  to  thank  Mary 
Stewart  for  her  kindness.  The  return  to  Queen's 
over  the  campus  had  been  even  easier,  and  next 
morning  she  felt  that  she  could  enter  the 
carnival. 

Nobody  had  a  chance  to  talk  about  costumes 
until  after  lunch  on  Saturday,  when  there  was  a 
meeting  of  the  three  friends  to  decide. 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can  go.  I  haven't  a  thing 
picturesque,"  exclaimed  Nance  dejectedly. 

"Now,  Nance,  you  have  no  imagination,"  said 
Judy. 

"One  day  you  tell  me  I  have  no  sense  of  humor, 
and  another  that  I  have  no  imagination.  You'll 
be  telling  me  I  have  no  brains  next." 

"Here,  eat  this  and  stop  quarreling,"  inter- 
rupted Molly,  thrusting  a  plate  of  fudge  before 
them.  "When  in  doubt,  eat  fudge  and  wisdom 
will  come." 


THE    SKATING    CARNIVAL  171 

Judy  ate  her  fudge  in  silence.  Then  suddenly 
she  cried  exultantly. 

"Eureka !  Wisdom  hath  come,  yea  even  to  the 
humble  in  spirit.  Heaven  hath  enlightened  me. 
I  know  what  we'll  wear,  girls." 

"What?"  they  demanded,  having  racked  their 
brains  in  vain  to  think  of  something  both  warm 
and  picturesque. 

"We'll  go,"  continued  Judy  impressively,  "as 
three  Russian  princesses." 

"What  in?" 

"Leave  that  to  me.  You  just  do  as  I  tell  you. 
Nance,  skate  down  to  the  village  and  buy  a  big 
roll  of  cotton  batting.  Make  them  wrap  it  up 
well,  so  as  not  to  offer  suggestions  to  others." 

"What  must  I  do?"  asked  Molly. 

"You  must  turn  up  the  hems  of  skirts.  Take 
your  old  last  winter's  brown  one,  and  Nance's  old 
green  one,  and — and  my  velvet  one " 

"Your  best  skirt !"  exclaimed  Nance  aghast. 

"Yes,  why  not?  We  only  live  once,"  replied 
the  reckless  Judy.  "Turn  up  the  hems  all  around 


172      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
and  baste  them.    They  should  reach  just  to  the 
shoetops." 

That  afternoon  they  hurriedly  sewed  bands  of 
cotton  batting-  around  the  bottoms  of  their  skirts, 
bordered  their  jackets  with  it,  made  cuffs  and 
muffs  and  high  turbans.  Then  Judy  dotted  the 
cotton  with  shoe  blacking  and  it  became  a  real- 
istic imitation  of  royal  ermine.  Each  girl  wore 
a  band  of  brilliant  ribbon  across  the  front  of  her 
coat  with  a  gilt  pasteboard  star  pinned  to  it. 

"I  suppose  this  might  be  taken  for  the  Order 
of  the  Star  and  Garter,"  observed  Judy.  "At  any 
rate,  we  are  royal  princesses  of  the  illustrious 
house  of  Russia,  the  Princesses  Molitzka,  Nanit- 
ska  and  Judiekeanovitch.  Those  are  Russian 
enough,  aren't  they?" 

Never  will  Molly  forget  the  fun  of  that  glori- 
ous evening,  nor  the  beautiful  picture  of  the 
meadows  and  fields  dazzling  white  in  the  moon- 
light. While  the  "workers"  of  the  four  classes 
lit  the  fires  and  lanterns,  the  "drones"  circled 
about  on  the  ice  singing  college  songs.  From 
over  at  Exmoor  came  a  crowd  of  youths  who  had 


THE    SKATING    CAENIVAL  173 

skated  the  ten  miles  up-hill  and  down-dale  to 
see  the  carnival.  Sleighing  parties  from  nearby 
estates  drove  over  with  rough-shod  teams  to  draw 
the  sleighs,  and  all  Wellington  turned  out  to  see 
the  sights. 

"I  didn't  believe  there  could  be  so  much  orig- 
inality in  the  world,"  thought  Molly,  admiring 
the  costumes  of  the  students. 

There  were  many  Teddy  Bears  and  Bunny 
Rabbits.  One  girl  wore  a  black  velvet  suit  with 
a  leopard's  skin  over  her  shoulder.  On  her  head 
was  a  mythological  looking  crown  with  a  pair  of 
cow's  horns  standing  upright  at  each  side.  There 
were  numerous  Russian  Gypsies  and  two  Dr. 
Cooks  wearing  long  black  mustaches,  each  carry- 
ing a  little  pole  with  an  American  flag  nailed  at 
the  top. 

Jessie  Lynch,  not  being  a  skater,  sat  in  a  chair 
on  runners,  while  her  good-natured  chum,  Mar- 
garet Wakefield,  pushed  her  about  the  lake.  Mar- 
garet wore  a  Chinese  costume  and  her  long  queue 
was  made  of  black  skirt  braid. 

After  the  parade  and  the  exhibitions  of  skat- 


174      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

ing,  there  was  general  skating  and  the  lake  be- 
came a  scene  of  changing  color  and  variety. 

"It's  like  a  gorgeous  Christmas  card,"  thought 
Molly,  practicing  strokes  by  herself  in  one  corner 
while  she  watched  the  circle  of  skaters  skim  by 
her.  "And  how  very  light  it  is.  I  can  plainly 
recognize  Nance  going  over  the  hill  with  Andy 
McLean." 

"Here  she  is,"  called  Lawrence  Upton,  break- 
ing from  the  circle  and  skating  towards  her  as 
easily,  apparently,  as  a  bird  flies.  His  body 
leaned  slightly.  His  hands  were  clasped  behind 
his  back,  and  Mercury  with  his  winged  shoes 
could  not  have  moved  more  gracefully. 

"Come  on,  Miss  Molly,  and  have  a  turn,"  he 
said. 

"What,  me,  the  poorest  skater  on  the  pond?" 

"Nonsense !  You  couldn't  dance  so  well  if  you 
were  a  poor  skater.  Just  cross  hands  like  this 
and  sail  along.  I  won't  let  you  fall." 

Off  they  did  sail  and  never  was  a  more  delight- 
ful sensation  than  Molly's,  flying  over  the  smooth 
ice  with  this  good-looking  young  Mercury. 


AROUND    AND    ROUND    THEY    SKIMMED. — Page     174. 


THE    SKATING    CARNIVAL  175 

Around  and  round  they  skimmed,  until  one  of 
the  Exmoor  boys  blew  a  horn,  the  signal  that  it 
was  time  to  start  the  ten  miles  back  to  college. 
Very  rough  skating  it  was  in  places,  so  Lawrence 
informed  Molly;  rather  dangerous  going  down 
some  of  the  steep  hills,  but  glorious  fun. 

"Why  don't  you  do  like  Baron  Munchausen 
on  the  mountain  ?  Sit  on  a  silk  handkerchief  and 
slide  down,"  suggested  Molly. 

"We  have  done  some  sliding  of  that  kind,"  he 
answered,  laughing,  "but  it  was  accidental  and 
there  was  no  time  to  get  out  a  pocket  handker- 
chief." 

At  last  the  great  carnival  was  over,  and  Molly, 
falling  in  with  a  crowd  of  campus  girls,  started 
for  home,  singing  with  the  others: 

"Good-night,  ladies,  we're  gwine  to  leave  you 
now." 

It  was  nearly  ten  when  she  tramped  upstairs, 
still  on  her  skates.  Judy  called  out  to  her  from 
her  room,  but  Nance  had  not  returned.  Molly 
unlaced  the  skating  boots,  removed  the  Russian 
Princess  costume,  and  flinging  her  time-worn 


176       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
eiderdown  cape  around  her  shoulders,  sat  down 
to  toast  her  toes. 

"Judy,"  she  called  presently,  "what  have  you 
done  with  Nance?" 

"The  last  I  saw  of  the  Lady  Nance  she  was 
going  over  the  hill  with  her  sandy-haired 
cavalier." 

"I  saw  her,  too,  but  I  haven't  met  up  with  her 
since.  I'm  afraid  she  will  get  a  'calling'  if  she 
isn't  back  pretty  soon." 

The  girls  waited  silently.  Presently  they  heard 
the  last  of  the  carnival  revellers  return.  The 
clock  in  the  tower  struck  ten.  Mrs.  Markham 
locked  the  hall  door  and  put  out  the  hall  light, 
and  still  no  Nance. 

"She's  gone  off  skating  with  Sandy  Andy  and 
forgot  the  time,"  whispered  Judy,  who  had  crept 
into  Molly's  room  to  confer.  "It's  a  good  joke 
on  proper  old  Nance.  I  think  she  was  never 
known  to  break  a  rule  before." 

"You  don't  suppose  anything  could  have  hap- 
pened to  them,  do  you?" 

"Of  course  not.    But  you  know  how  absorbed 


THE    SKATING    CARNIVAL  177 

they  do  get  in  conversation.  They  wouldn't  hear 
a  cannon  go  off  a  yard  away." 

"They  are  awfully  strict  here  about  being  out 
with  boys,"  observed  Molly  uneasily.  "I  do  wish 
she  would  come  home." 

The  girls  lingered  over  the  register  talking  in 
whispers  until  the  clock  struck  half-past  ten. 

''Molly,  suppose  they  have  eloped!"  Judy  ob- 
served. 

"Eloped !"  repeated  Molly,  amazed.  Then  she 
began  to  laugh.  "]udy,  is  there  anybody  in  the 
world  so  romantic  as  you  ?  Why,  they  are  mere 
infants.  Andy  isn't  nineteen  yet  and  Nance  was 
only  eighteen  last  month.  I  think  we'd  better 
slip  out  and  find  them.  Come  on." 

Very  quietly  the  two  girls  got  into  their  things. 
They  wore  their  rubbers  this  time,  and  Molly 
very  thankfully  carried  the  imitation  ermine 
muff.  The  entire  household  was  sound  asleep 
when  out  into  the  sparkling,  glittering  world 
they  crept  like  two  conspirators. 

"Suppose  we  try  the  links  first,"  suggested 


178      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

Judy,  "since  both  of  us  saw  them  disappearing 
last  in  that  direction." 

"If  we  were  really  ladylike  persons  we'd  be 
afraid  to  go  scurrying  off  here  in  the  dark,"  ob- 
served Molly. 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  anything,"  Judy  replied, 
and  Molly  knew  she  spoke  the  truth,  for  Judy  was 
the  most  fearless  girl  she  had  ever  known. 

When  they  reached  the  summit  of  the  hill,  they 
began  calling  at  the  tops  of  their  voices,  "Nance ! 
Nance  Oldham!" 

There  was  no  answer  and  not  in  all  the  broad 
expanse  of  whiteness  could  they  see  a  human 
being. 

"I  wish  I  knew  what  to  do,"  exclaimed  Molly, 
growing  more  and  more  uneasy.  "Suppose  she 
has  been  injured — suppose — suppose " 

"There  they  are!"  cried  Judy.  "The  young 
rascals,  I  believe  they  are  utterly  oblivious  to 
time." 

Far  over  the  ice  appeared  the  two  figures. 
They  were  not  skating  but  walking,  and  several 


THE   SKATING    CARNIVAL  179 

times  before  they  reached  the  girls  they  slipped 
and  fell  down. 

"You  are  a  nice  pair,"  cried  Judy.  "Don't  you 
know  it's  way  after  hours  and  everybody  is  in 
bed  long  ago?" 

"Why,  Nance,  dear,  what  has  happened?  Why 
are  you  walking?"  asked  Molly,  who  was  rarely 
known  to  scold  anybody. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Nance  stiffly.  "I 
couldn't  help  it.  The  heel  of  my  shoe  came  off 
and  I  couldn't  skate.  Mr.  McLean " 

Judy  smiled  mischievously. 

"They've  been  quarreling,"  she  said  under  her 
breath. 

"And  Mr.  McLean  had  to  bring  me  back  much 
against  his  will." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,  Miss  Oldham,"  put  in 
"Mr."  McLean,  flushing  angrily.  "I  was  very 
glad  to  bring  you  back.  I  only  said " 

"Never  mind  what  you  said.  It  was  your  man- 
ner. Actions  speak  louder  than  words." 

"Come  along,"  put  in  Molly.  "This  is  no  time 
for  quarrels.  It's  after  eleven.  Andy,  what  will 


180      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
you  do?    Skate  back  to  Exmoor  or  stay  at  your 
father's?" 

"I  shall  skate  back,  of  course,"  he  answered 
in  an  heroic  voice.  "The  other  fellows  might 
think  something  had  happened  to  me." 

"Here,  Nance,  put  on  one  of  my  overshoes," 
said  Judy.  "That  will  keep  you  from  slipping 
and  we  must  hasten  e'er  the  midnight  chime  doth 
strike.  Farewell,  Andrew.  God  bless  you,  and 
a  safe  journey,  my  boy." 

Judy  struck  a  dramatic  attitude  and  Molly  was 
obliged  to  laugh,  in  spite  of  the  serious  faces 
of  the  others. 

"Hadn't  I  better  see  you  home?"  asked  An- 
drew stiffly. 

"Forsooth,  no,  good  gentleman.  Begone,  and 
the  sooner  the  better." 

"Come  on,  you  silly  goose,"  laughed  Molly, 
and  the  three  girls  hurried  home.  Once  they 
stopped  to  look  back,  and  young  Andy,  skating 
as  if  the  foul  fiends  were  after  him,  was  almost 
at  the  end  of  the  course. 

There  was  no  Miss  Steel  that  winter  to  keep 


THE    SKATING   CAENIVAL  181 

a  sharp  ear  open  for  late-comers  and  the  girls 
crept  safely  up  to  bed.  Twice  in  the  night  Molly 
heard  Nance  weeping  bitterly.  But  she  said 
nothing  because  she  knew  that  such  quarrels  are 
soon  mended. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 
THE  THAW. 

Next  day  began  the  thaw  and  in  a  week  the 
whole  earth  appeared  to  have  melted  into  an  un- 
pleasant muddy-colored  liquid.  An  icy  dampness 
permeated  the  air.  It  chilled  the  warmth  of  the 
soul  and  changed  the  hue  of  existence  to  a  sad 
gray. 

Judy  and  Molly  were  prepared  to  see  Nance 
thaw  with  the  great  sleet  and  melt  into  little 
rivulets  of  feeling  and  remorse.  She  had  seemed 
rather  hard  on  Andy,  junior,  that  night;  but 
Nance  remained  implacable  and  had  no  word  to 
say  on  the  subject. 

"She's  as  ice-bound  as  ever/'  exclaimed  Judy, 
shaking  her  head  ruefully.  "I  am  afraid  she  still 
belongs  to  the  glacial  period.  Don't  you  think 
you  can  warm  her  up  a  little  and  make  her  for- 
give poor  Andy?" 

182 


THE    THAW  183 

"Perhaps  the  sun  will  do  it,"  said  Molly,  lift- 
ing her  skirts  as  she  waded  through  the  slush 
on  the  campus. 

The  two  girls  were  on  their  way  to  a  class 
and  there  was  no  time  to  linger  for  discussions 
about  Nance's  unforgiving  nature.  But  there 
was  nothing  Judy  enjoyed  more  than  making 
what  she  learnedly  termed  "psychological  specu- 
lations" concerning  her  friends'  sentiments. 

"Do  stop  tearing  along,  Molly,  while  I  talk. 
I  have  something  interesting  to  say." 

"Judy  Kean,  there  must  be  a  depression  on 
your  head  where  there  should  be  a  perfectly  good 
bump  of  duty.  Don't  you  know  we  have  only 
five  minutes  to  get  to  the  class?  I'd  rather  be 
late  to  almost  anything  that  Lit.  II." 

"And  why,  pray?"  demanded  Judy,  rushing  to 
keep  up  with  Molly's  long  steps. 

"Oh,  well,  because  it's  interesting." 

"Is  that  the  only  reason?" 

"Why  don't  you  turn  into  a  period  occasion- 
ally, Juliana?  You  are  every  other  variety  of 
punctuation  mark, — dashes,  exclamations,  inter- 


184      MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMOBE  DAYS 

rogations.  Sometimes  you're  a  comma  and  I've 
known  you  to  be  a  semicolon,  but  when,  oh,  when 
have  you  come  to  a  full  stop  ?" 

"All  this  long  peroration " 

"Pero— what?" 

"Means  that  you  are  avoiding  the  real  ques- 
tion." 

"Here  we  are,"  ejaculated  Molly  with  a  sigh 
of  relief  as  she  ran  upstairs  and  entered  the  class 
room  at  the  same  moment  that  Professor  Green 
appeared  from  another  door. 

Molly  freely  admitted  to  her  friends  that  Eng- 
lish Literature  was  the  most  interesting  study 
she  had.  She  took  more  pains  over  the  prepara- 
tion for  this  class  than  for  any  of  her  other 
lessons.  She  was  always  careful  not  to  be  late, 
but  then  sat  timidly  and  modestly  in  the  back  row 
with  the  girls  who  wished  to  avoid  being  called 
upon  to  recite.  The  Professor's  lectures,  how- 
ever, led  her  into  an  enchanted  country,  the  land 
of  poetry  and  romance.  Perhaps,  at  first,  he 
thought  she  really  wished  to  avoid  being  ques- 
tioned and  that  her  spellbound  expression  was 


THE    THAW  185 

only  indifference.  Certainly  he  had  seldom  tested 
her  interest  until  one  day  during  a  lecture  on  the 
Pre-Raphaelite  artists  and  poets  he  calmly  re- 
quested her  to  stand  up  before  the  entire  class 
and  read  Rossetti's  "Blessed  Damozel."  Blush- 
ing hotly,  she  began  the  reading  in  a  thin,  fright- 
ened voice,  but  presently  the  amused  faces  of  her 
friends  faded  away;  her  voice  regained  its  full 
measure  of  strength  and  beauty,  and  when  she 
had  finished,  she  became  aware  that  somewhere 
hidden  within  the  wellsprings  of  her  mind  was 
a  power  she  had  not  known  of  before.  Molly's 
classmates  were  much  impressed  by  her  perform- 
ance, but  there  was  a  faint  smile  on  the  Profes- 
sor's face  that  seemed  to  imply  that  he  was  not 
in  the  least  surprised. 

Among  all  the  little  happenings  that  infest  our 
daily  lives  it  is  often  the  least  and  most  acci- 
dental that  wields  the  strongest  influence.  This 
chance  discovery  by  Molly  that  she  could  read 
poetry  aloud  gave  her  infinite  secret  pleasure. 
She  began  to  memorize  and  repeat  to  herself  all 
her  favorite  poems.  Sometimes  her  pulses  beat 


186      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

time  to  the  rhythm  in  her  head ;  even  her  speech 
at  such  times  became  unconsciously  metrical,  and 
as  she  walked  she  felt  her  body  swing  to  the 
music  of  the  verse.  With  a  strange  shyness  she 
hid  this  secret  from  her  friends,  who  never 
guessed  when  she  sat  quietly  with  them  that  she 
was  chanting  poetry  to  herself. 

Molly  had  planned  to  do  several  errands  that 
afternoon,  after  the  class  in  Lit.  II.  The  first 
one  took  her  to  the  village  to  see  Madeleine  Petit, 
the  little  Southern  girl,  who  was  willing  to  do 
almost  any  kind  of  work  to  earn  money.  Molly 
had  never  returned  the  magazine  clippings  of 
prize  offers,  and  she  had  also  another  reason  for 
wanting  to  see  Madeleine.  She  wished  to  find 
out  just  how  different  life  in  a  room  over  the  post- 
office  was  from  life  at  Queen's.  She  was  thank- 
ful when  the  lesson  was  over,  that  Judy  was  en- 
gaged for  basket-ball  practice  in  the  gym.,  for 
she  wished  tp  be  alone  when  she  made  this  call. 

Only  a  few  days  before,  Miss  Walker  had 
called  to  her  after  chapel  and  suggested  that  she 
look  over  the  rooms  the  postmistress  rented  to 


THE   THAW  187 

students,  and  make  her  choice  so  that  lodgings 
could  be  spoken  for  before  Christmas. 

Molly  paused  at  Madeleine's  door  and  read  the 
sign  carefully. 

"I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  be  fixing  up  some- 
thing like  that,"  she  thought,  "only  I  never  could 
do  up  jabots  and  I'd  rather  scrub  floors  than 
shampoo  people's  heads/' 

"Come  in,"  called  the  liquid,  melting  voice  of 
the  Southern  girl  in  answer  to  Molly's  tap.  "Oh, 
how  do  you  do?  What  a  delightful,  welcome 
surprise,"  cried  the  hospitable  little  person.  "Put 
your  feet  over  the  register.  That's  where  I  spend 
most  of  my  time  now.  I'm  not  used  to  this  aw- 
ful climate.  Now,  give  me  your  hat  and  coat. 
You're  to  have  tea  with  me,  you  know.  You 
won't  mind  if  I  go  on  working,  will  you?  I'm 
doing  up  some  jabots  and  things  for  that  sweet 
Miss  Stewart.  She  has  given  me  a  lot  of  work. 
Such  a  lady,  if  she  is  a  Yankee!  I  can  safely 
say  that  to  you  because  you  aren't  one,  you  know. 
But,  really,  I'm  beginning  to  like  these  Northern 
girls  so  much.  They  are  quite  as  nice  as  the 


188      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

girls  from  home,  only  quieter,"  rattled  on  Miss 
Petit. 

Molly  groaned  inwardly. 

"If  she  only  didn't  talk  so  much,"  she  thought. 
"I'm  always  putting  up  milestones  during  her 
ramblings  to  remind  me  of  something  I  wanted 
to  say,  but  there's  never  any  chance  to  go  back, 
even  if  I  could  remember  where  I  put  them." 

"I  wanted  to  return  these  clippings,"  she  man- 
aged to  edge  in  at  last,  producing,  the  slips  of 
papers. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  have  bothered.  I  shall  never 
use  any  of  them.  I  told  you  there  was  nothing 
but  mathematics  in  my  soul.  I  can't  write  at 
all.  The  themes  are  the  horror  of  my  life.  But 
you  tried,  I  am  sure.  Was  it  the  short  story  or 
one  of  the  advertising  ones?  They  are  all  of 
them  terribly  unsatisfactory  because  you  never 
know  where  you  stand  until  months  and  months 
afterwards  when  you  read  that  somebody  has 
won  the  prize.  But,  of  course,  I  never  expect 
to  win  prizes.  I  could  never  make  a  coup  de  tete 
like  that," 


THE   THAW  189 

"You  could  make  a  coup  de  tongue,"  thought 
Molly,  sighing  helplessly. 

"But  did  you  try?"  asked  Madeleine,  now  ac- 
tually pausing  for  a  reply  to  her  question. 

"I  did  try  one  of  them,  a  little  poem  that  came 
into  my  head,  but  it  was  weeks  ago  and  I  know 
nothing  will  come  of  it.  I  felt  when  I  sent  it  off 
that  it  wasn't  the  kind  of  thing  they  wanted, 
wasn't  advertisey  enough.  I  had  really  almost 
forgotten  I  wrote  it,  so  many  other  things  have 
happened  since.  Can  you  keep  a  secret,  Miss 
Petit?" 

"I  certainly  can,"  replied  the  busy  little  crea- 
ture, pausing  in  her  labors  to  test  the  iron.  "Dear 
me,  I  must  be  careful  not  to  scorch  any  of  these 
pretty  things.  But  the  tea  kettle  is  boiling.  Sup- 
pose we  have  some  refreshment  and  you  can  tell 
me  the  secret  in  comfort." 

Molly  smiled  at  her  own  Southern  peculiarities 
cropping  out  in  this  little  friend. 

"Mommer  sent  me  this  caramel  cake  yesterday. 
It's  made  from  a  very  old  recipe.  I  hope  you'll 
like  the  tea.  I'm  sorry  I  can't  offer  you  any  real 


190      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

cream.  I  would  just  as  soon  eat  cold  cream  for 
the  complexion  as  condensed  cream.  It's  all  right 
for  cooking  with,  but  it  doesn't  go  well  with  tea 
and  coffee,  which  I  always  make  in  my  own 
rooms,  especially  coffee.  It's  never  strong  enough 
at  the  place  I  take  my  meals.  But  you  said  some- 
thing about  a  secret?" 

Somehow  Molly's  affairs  seemed  to  dwindle 
into  insignificance  in  comparison  with  this  great 
tidal  wave  of  conversation,  and  she  resolved  not 
to  take  Madeleine  into  her  confidence  after  all. 
It  occurred  to  her  that  she  would  soon  become 
a  raving  maniac  if  she  lived  next  door  to  anyone 
who  talked  as  much  as  that. 

"It's  really  not  much  of  a  secret,"  answered 
Molly  lightly.  "Miss  Walker  asked  me  to  come 
down  and  look  over  some  empty  rooms  here  for 
someone,  and  I  thought,  maybe,  if  you  could 
spare  the  time  you  would  come  with  me." 

"I  can  always  spare  the  time  to  be  of  service 
to  you,"  exclaimed  Madeleine.  "You  have  done 
so  much  for  me.  You  really  gave  me  my  start 
here,  you  know." 


THE   THAW  191 

"Nonsense !"  put  in  Molly. 

"Yes,  you  did.  You  sent  Miss  Stewart  to  me 
and  introduced  me  to  some  of  the  older  girls, 
who  have  all  been  very  nice.  They  would  prob- 
ably never  have  heard  of  me  but  for  you." 

When  they  had  finished  the  tea  and  cake,  which 
were  delicious,  they  inspected  the  vacant  rooms, 
to  a  steady  accompaniment  of  Madeleine's  con- 
versation. Molly  wondered  how  the  capable, 
clever,  industrious  little  creature  could  accom- 
plish so  much  when  her  tongue  went  like  a  clap- 
hammer  most  of  the  time.  But  there  was  no 
doubt  that  she  achieved  marvels  and  was  already 
well  up  in  her  classes.  Poor  Molly's  temples 
ached  with  the  steady  hum.  Her  tongue  was  dry 
and  she  had  a  wild  impulse  to  jump  out  the  win- 
dow. How  could  she  explain  to  kind  Miss 
Walker  that  she  could  not  live  over  the  post- 
office  ?  Would  it  not  be  an  unfriendly  act  to  tell 
the  real  reason? 

"It's  bad  enough  as  it  is,"  she  thought,  "leav- 
ing my  sweet  old  Queen's,  but  this  would  be  be- 
yond human  endurance.  It  will  have  to  be  a 


192      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

room  over  the  general  store  or  at  Mrs.  O'Reil- 
ly's. Anything  but  this." 

The  post-office  rooms  were  bare  and  crude,  and 
poor  Molly  was  sick  at  heart  when  at  last  she 
took  her  leave  of  the  little  friend,  who  was  still 
babbling  unceasingly  when  the  door  closed. 

Molly  breathed  a  deep  sigh  of  relief  as  she 
waded  through  the  slush  on  the  sidewalk. 

"It  will  be  a  good  deal  like  being  banished 
from  the  promised  land,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"wherever  it  is." 

Pausing  at  the  door  of  the  general  store,  she 
noticed  a  big,  black,  funereal-looking  vehicle 
coming  up  the  street  at  a  slow  pace.  Passers-by 
paused  to  look  at  it,  with  a  kind  of  morbid  cu- 
riosity, as  it  drew  nearer. 

"Oh,  heavens,  I  hope  that  isn't  an  undertaker's 
wagon,"  Molly  thought,  preparing  to  flee  from 
the  dread  sight  which  always  filled  her  with  the 
horrors.  The  big  vehicle  passed  slowly  by.  On 
the  front  seat  with  the  driver  sat  Dr.  McLean. 
He  bowed  to  her  gravely,  barely  lifting  his  hat. 
"One  of  his  patients,"  her  thoughts  continued, 


THE    THAW  193 

"but  it's  strange  for  him  to  ride  on  the  same 
wagon.  I  don't  think  I  can  possibly  look  at  those 
other  rooms  today." 

She  turned  her  face  away  from  the  general 
store  and  hastened  back  to  the  University,  which 
seemed  to  be  the  only  thing  that  retained  its  dig- 
nity and  beauty  under  the  disenchanting  in- 
fluences of  this  muggy,  damp  day.  As  she  walked 
up  the  avenue,  there  some  distance  ahead  was 
the  gruesome  equipage. 

"Heavens!  Heavens!  I  haven't  heard  about 
anything,"  she  exclaimed. 

The  wagon  did  not  pause  at  the  Infirmary  as 
she  expected,  but  pursued  its  way  until  it  reached 
the  McLean  house.  Molly  began  to  run,  and 
just  as  she  arrived  breathless  and  excited,  the 
vehicle  had  backed  up  to  the  steps,  two  doors 
swung  open,  and  Mrs.  McLean,  accompanied 
by  a  trained  nurse,  stepped  out.  The  doctor 
climbed  down  from  one  side  of  the  vehicle  and 
the  driver  from  the  other.  Professor  Green 
sprung  up  from  somewhere, — he  had  probably 
been  waiting  in  the  McLeans'  hall — and  the  three 


194      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
men  gently  lifted  out  a  stretcher  on  which  lay  the 
almost  unrecognizable  form  of  Andy,  junior.    A 
large  bandage  encircled  his  head  and  one  arm 
was  done  up  in  splints. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  McLean,"  whispered  Molly,  "I 
didn't  know " 

But  Mrs.  McLean  only  shook  her  head  and 
hurried  after  the  stretcher. 

Molly  sat  down  on  the  muddy  steps  and  waited. 
After  what  seemed  an  age,  Professor  Green 
emerged  from  the  house. 

"You  are  a  reckless  girl  to  sit  there  in  all  that 
dampness,"  he  exclaimed. 

"Never  mind  me.    What  about  Andy?" 

"He's  in  pretty  bad  shape,  I  am  afraid,"  an- 
swered the  Professor.  "He  was  hurt  the  night 
of  the  carnival  in  some  way.  I  don't  know  just 
how  it  happened  that  he  lost  the  others.  At  any 
rate,  they  found  him  after  a  long  hunt  half 
frozen  to  death,  a  gash  in  his  head,  and  several 
broken  bones.  They  thought  they  had  better 
bring  him  home,  where  the  doctor  could  look 


THE   THAW  195 

after  him,  but  he  hasn't  stood  the  journey  as  well 
as  they  hoped." 

"Poor  Nance!"  said  Molly,  as  she  hastened 
back  to  Queen's. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

QUESTIONS  AND  ANSWERS. 

"Oh,  Molly,  what  was  that  awful  black  wagon 
that  went  up  the  avenue  a  few  minutes  ago?" 
demanded  half  a  dozen  voices  as  she  opened  the 
door  into  her  own  room. 

"The  freshman  at  the  Infirmary  who  was 
threatened  with  typhoid  fever  is  getting  well," 
remarked  Margaret  Wakefield. 

"Surely,  nothing  has  happened  to  any  of  the 
Wellington  girls?"  put  in  Jessie  uneasily. 

"No,  no,"  answered  Molly,  "nothing  so  ter- 
rible as  that,  thank  goodness.  It  wasn't  an 
undertaker's  wagon,  but  an  ambulance."  She 
paused.  It  would  be  rather  hard  on  Nance  to 
tell  the  news  about  Andy  before  all  the  girls. 

"It  looked  something  like  the  Exmoor  ambu- 
lance," here  observed  Katherine  Williams. 

Molly  was  silent.  Suppose  she  should  tell  the 
196 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWEES  197 

sad  news  and  Nance  should  break  down  and 
make  a  scene.  It  would  be  cruel.  'Til  wait  un- 
til they  go,"  she  decided.  But  this  was  not  easy. 

"Who  was  in  the  ambulance,  Molly?"  asked 
Judy  impatiently.  "I  should  think  you  would 
have  had  curiosity  enough  to  have  noticed  where 
it  stopped." 

It  was  no  use  wrinkling  her  eyebrows  at  Judy 
or  trying  to  evade  her  direct  questions.  The  in- 
quisitive girl  went  on: 

"Wasn't  that  Dr.  McLean  on  the  seat  with  the 
driver?" 

"Naturally  he  would  be  there,  being  the  only 
physician  in  Wellington,"  replied  Molly. 

Then  Lawyer  Wakefield  began  a  series  of 
cross-questions  that  fairly  made  the  poor  girl 
quail. 

"In  which  direction  were  you  going  when  you 
met  the  ambulance  ?"  asked  this  persistent  judge. 

"I  was  coming  this  way,  of  course." 

"And  you  mean  to  say  your  curiosity  didn't 
prompt  you  to  turn  around  and  see  where  the 
ambulance  stopped?" 


198       MOLLY  BKOWN'S  SOPHOMOKE  DAYS 

"I  didn't  say  that,"  faltered  Molly,  feeling  very 
much  like  a  prisoner  at  the  bar. 

"You  did  turn  and  look  then?  Was  it  toward 
the  faculty  houses  or  the  Quadrangle  that  the 
ambulance  was  driving?" 

"Well,  really,  Judge  Wakefield,  I  think  I  had 
better  seek  legal  advice  before  replying  to  your 
questions." 

Margaret  laughed. 

"I  only  wanted  to  prove  to  myself  that  the 
only  way  to  get  at  the  truth  of  a  matter  is  by  a 
system  of  questions  which  require  direct  answers. 
It's  like  the  game  of  'Twenty  Questions,'  which 
is  the  most  interesting  game  in  the  world  when 
it's  properly  played.  Once  I  guessed  the  ring 
on  the  Pope's  finger  in  six  questions  just  by  care- 
ful deduction.  It's  easier  to  get  at  the  truth  by 
subtracting  than  adding " 

"Truth,  indeed.  You  haven't  got  a  bit  nearer 
than  any  of  us,"  burst  in  the  incorrigible  Judy. 
"With  all  your  legal  mind  you  haven't  made 
Molly  tell  us  who  was  in  the  ambulance,  and  of 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWEES  199 

course  she  knows.  She  has  never  said  she  didn't, 
yet." 

Molly  felt  desperately  uncomfortable.  She 
wished  now  that  she  had  told  them  in  the  begin- 
ning. It  had  only  made  matters  worse  not  to 
tell. 

"Molly,  you  are  the  strangest  person.  What 
possible  reason  could  you  have  for  keeping  secret 
who  was  in  the  ambulance?  Was  it  one  of  the 
students  or  one  of  the  faculty  ?"  demanded  Nance. 

"People  who  live  in  the  country  say  that  calves 
are  the  most  inquisitive  creatures  in  the  world, 
but  I  think  girls  are,"  remarked  Molly. 

"This  is  as  good  as  a  play,"  cried  one  of  the 
Williams  girls,  "  a  real  play  behind  footlights, 
to  sit  here  and  look  on  at  this  little  comedy  of 
curiosity.  You've  asked  every  conceivable  ques- 
tion under  the  sun,  and  Molly  there  has  never 
told  a  thing.  Now  I  happen  to  know  that  the 
Ambulance  is  connected  with  the  sanitarium  over 
near  Exmoor.  I  saw  it  once  when  we  were  walk- 
ing, and  it  is  therefore  probably  bringing  some- 
one from  Exmoor  here.  Then  if  you  wish  to 


200      MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

inquire  further  by  the  'deductive  method/  as 
Judge  Wakefield  calls  it:  who  at  Exmoor  has 
connections  at  Wellington  ?" 

"Dodo  Green  and  Andy  McLean,"  said  Judy 
quickly. 

"Exactly,"  answered  Edith. 

Nance's  eyes  met  Molly's  and  in  a  flash  sfie 
understood  why  her  friend  had  been  parrying 
the  questions  of  the  other  girls.  It  was  to  save 
her  from  a  shock. 

Perhaps  some  of  the  other  girls  recognized 
this,  too,  for  Margaret  and  the  Williamses  rose 
at  the  same  moment  and  made  excuses  to  go,  and 
the  others  soon  followed.  Only  blundering  and 
thoughtless  Judy  remained  to  blunder  more. 

"Molly  Brown,"  she  exclaimed,  "you  have  been 
getting  so  full  of  mysteries  and  secrets  lately  that 
you  might  as  well  live  in.  a  tower  all  alone.  Now, 
why " 

"Is  he  very  badly  hurt,  Molly?"  interrupted 
Nance  in  a  cold,  even  voice,  not  taking  the  slight- 
est notice  of  Judy's  complaints. 

"Pretty  badly,  Nance.    The  journey  over  from 


QUESTIONS    AND    ANSWERS  201 

Exmoor  was  harder  on  him  than  they  thought 
it  would  be.  I  stood  beside  the  stretcher  for  a 
minute." 

Nance  walked  over  to  the  side  window  and 
looked  across  the  campus  in  the  direction  of  the 
McLean  house.  On  the  small  section  of  the 
avenue  which  could  be  seen  from  that  point  she 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  ambulance  making  its 
return  trip  to  Exmoor. 

She  turned  quickly  and  went  back  to  her  chair. 

"It  looks  like  a  hearse,"  she  said  miserably. 

"Is  it  Andy?"  asked  Judy  of  Molly  in  a 
whisper. 

Molly  nodded  her  head. 

"What  a  chump  I've  been!"  ejaculated  Judy. 

"It  happened  the  night  of  the  carnival,  of 
course,"  pursued  Nance. 

"Yes." 

"It  was  all  my  fault,"  she  went  on  quietly.  "I 
would  coast  down  one  of  those  long  hills  and 
Andy  didn't  want  me  to.  I  knew  I  could,  and  I. 
wanted  to  show  him  how  well  I  could  skate.  Then, 
just  as  we  got  to  the  bottom,  my  heel  came  off 


202    MOLLY  BKOWN'S  SOPHOMOKE  DAYS 

and  we  both  tumbled.  It  didn't  hurt  us,  but  Andy 
was  provoked,  and  then  we  quarreled.  Of  course, 
walking  back  made  us  late  and  he  missed  the 
others." 

"But,  dear  Nance,  it  might  have  happened 
just  the  same,  even  if  he  had  been  with  the 
others,"  argued  Molly. 

"No,  it  couldn't  have  been  so  bad.  He  must 
have  been  lying  in  the  snow  a  long  time  before 
they  found  him,  and  was  probably  half  frozen," 
she  went  on,  ruthlessly  inflicting  pain  on  herself. 

"They  did  go  back  and  find  him,  fortunately," 
admitted  Molly. 

"He  was  the  first  and  only  boy  friend  I  have 
ever  had,"  continued  Nance  in  a  tone  of  extreme 
bitterness.  "I  always  thought  I  was  a  wallflower 
until  I  met  him.  Other  girls  like  you  two  and 
Jessie  have  lots  of  friends  and  can  spare  one. 
But  I  haven't  any  to  spare.  I  only  have  Andy." 
Her  voice  broke  and  she  began  to  sob,  "Oh,  why 
was  I  so  stubborn  and  cruel  that  night?" 

Judy  crept  over  and  locked  the  door.  She  was 
sore  in  mind  and  body  at  sight  of  Nance's  misery. 


QUESTIONS    AND    ANSWERS  203 

"I  feel  like  a  whipped  cur,"  she  thought.  "Just 
as  if  someone  had  beaten  me  with  a  stick.  Poor 
old  Nance!" 

"You  mustn't  feel  so  hopeless  about  it,  Nance 
dear,"  Molly  was  saying.  "I'm  sure  he'll  pull 
through.  They  wouldn't  have  brought  him  all 
this  distance  if  he  had  been  so  badly  off." 

"They  have  brought  him  home  to  die!"  cried 
Nance  fiercely.  "And  I  did  it.  I  did  it!"  she 
rocked  herself  back  and  forth.  "I  want  to  be 
alone,"  she  said  suddenly. 

"Of  course,  dear  Nance,  no  one  shall  disturb 
you,"  said  Molly,  taking  a  pile  of  books  off  the 
table  and  a  "Busy"  sign,  which  she  hung  on  the 
door.  "We'll  bring  up  your  supper.  Don't  come 
down  this  evening." 

But  when  the  girls  returned  some  hours  later 
with  a  tray  of  food,  Nance  had  gone  to  bed  and 
turned  her  face  to  the  wall,  and  she  refused  to 
eat  a  morsel.  All  next  day  it  was  the  same. 
Nance  remained  in  bed,  ruthlessly  cutting  lessons 
and  refusing  to  take  anything  but  a  cup  of  soup 
at  lunch  time.  The  girls  called  at  Dr.  McLean's 


204      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

to  inquire  for  Andy  and  found  that  his  condition 
was  much  the  same.  Nance's  condition  was  the 
same,  too.  She  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  all  their 
arguments  and  declined  to  be  reasoned  with. 

"She  can't  lie  there  forever,"  Judy  exclaimed 
at  last. 

"But  what  are  we  to  do,  Judy?"  Molly  asked. 
"She's  just  nursing-  her  troubles  until  she'll  go 
into  melancholia !  I  would  go  to  Mrs.  McLean, 
but  she  won't  see  anyone  and  the  doctor  is  too 
unhappy  to  listen.  I  tried  to  tell  him  about  Nance 
and  he  didn't  hear  a  word  I  was  saying.  I  didn't 
realize  how  much  they  adored  Andy." 

Judy  could  offer  no  suggestion  and  Molly  went 
off  to  the  Library  to  think. 

It  occurred  to  her  that  Professor  Green  might 
give  her  some  advice.  He  knew  all  about  the 
friendship  between  Nance  and  Andy,  and,  be- 
sides, he  had  interested  himself  once  before  in 
Nance's  troubles  when  he  arranged  for  her  to 
go  to  the  McLeans'  supper  party  the  year  before. 
Molly  glanced  at  the  clock.  It  was  nearly  half- 
past  four. 


QUESTIONS    AND   ANSWERS  205 

"He'll  probably  be  in  his  little  cloister  study 
right  now,"  she  said  to  herself,  and  in  three  min- 
utes she  was  rapping  on  the  oak  door  in  the  cor- 
ridor marked  "E.  Green." 

"Come  in,"  called  the  Professor. 

He  was  sitting  at  his  study  table,  his  back 
turned  to  her,  writing  busily. 

"You're  late,  Dodo,"  he  continued,  without 
looking  up.  "I  expected  you  in  time  for  lunch. 
Sit  down  and  wait.  I  can't  stop  now.  Don't 
speak  to  me  for  fifteen  minutes.  I'm  finishing 
something  that  must  go  by  the  six  o'clock  mail." 

Molly  sank  into  the  depths  of  the  nearest  chair 
while  the  Professor's  pen  scratched  up  and  down 
monotonously.  Not  since  the  famous  night  of 
her  Freshman  year  when  she  was  locked  in  the 
cloisters  had  she  been  in  the  Professor's  sanc- 
tum, and  she  looked  about  her  with  much 
curiosity. 

"I  wish  I  had  one  just  like  it,"  she  thought. 
"It's  so  peaceful  and  quiet,  just  the  place  to  work 
in  and  write  books  on  'The  Elizabethan  Drama,' 
and  lyric  poetry,  and  comic  operas " 


206      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

There  was  a  nice  leathery  smell  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  book  bindings  mingled  with  tobacco 
smoke,  and  the  only  ornament  she  could  discover, 
except  a  small  bronze  bust  of  Voltaire  and  a  life 
mask  of  Keats,  was  a  glazed  paper  weight  in 
the  very  cerulean  blue  she  herself  was  so  fond 
of.  It  caught  the  fading  light  from  the  window 
and  shone  forth  from  the  desk  like  a  bit  of 
blue  sky. 

Molly  was  sitting  in  a  high  back  leather  chair, 
which  quite  hid  her  from  Judith  Blount,  who 
presently,  knocking  on  the  door  and  opening  it 
at  the  same  moment,  entered  the  room  like  a  hur- 
ricane. 

"Cousin  Edwin,  may  I  come  in?  I  want  to 
ask  you  something " 

"I  can't  possibly  see  you  now,  Judith.  You 
must  wait  until  to-morrow.  I'm  very  busy." 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  exclaimed  the  girl  and  banged 
the  door  as  she  departed  into  the  corridor. 

What  a  jarring  element  she  was  in  all  that 
peaceful  stillness!  The  muffled  noises  in  the 


QUESTIONS   AND  ANSWERS  207 

Quadrangle  seemed  a  hundred  miles  away.  Molly 
rose  and  tiptoed  to  the  door. 

"He'll  be  angrier  than  ever  if  he  should  find 
me  here,"  she  thought.  "I'll  just  get  out  quietly 
and  explain  some  other  time." 

Her  hand  was  already  on  the  doorknob  when 
the  Professor  wheeled  around  and  faced  her. 

"Why,  Miss  Brown,"  he  exclaimed,  "was  it 
you  all  the  time  ?  I  might  have  known  my  clumsy 
brother  couldn't  have  been  so  quiet." 

"Please  excuse  me,"  faltered  Molly.     "I  am 

sure  you  are  very  busy.    I  am  awfully  sorry  to 

» 
have  disturbed  you." 

"Nonsense !  It's  only  unimportant  things  I  won't 
be  bothered  with,  like  the  absurd  questions  Judith 
thinks  up  to  ask  me  and  Dodo's  gossip  about  the 
fellows  at  Exmoor.  But  I  am  well  aware  that 
you  never  waste  time.  I  suspect  you  of  being 
one  of  the  busiest  little  ladies  in  Wellington." 

Molly  smiled.  Somehow,  she  liked  to  be  called 
a  "little  lady"  by  this  distinguished  professor. 

"But  your  letter  that  must  go  by  the  six  mail?" 

"That  can  wait  until  morning,"  he  said. 


208      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

He  had  just  said  it  was  to  go  at  six,  but,  of 
course,  he  had  a  right  to  change  his  mind. 

"Sit  down  and  tell  me  what's  the  trouble.  Have 
you  had  bad  news  from  home?" 

"No,  it's  about  Nance,"  she  began,  and  told 
him  the  whole  story.  "You  see,"  she  finished, 
"Nance  has  had  so  few  friends,  and  she  is  very 
fond  of  Andy.  Because  she  thinks  the  accident 
was  her  fault,  she  is  just  grieving  herself  into 
an  awful  state." 

The  Professor  sat  with  his  chin  resting  on  his 
hand. 

"Poor  little  girl!"  he  said.  "And  the  Doctor 
and  Mrs.  McLean  are  in  almost  as  bad  a  state 
themselves.  You  know  it's  just  a  chance  that 
Andy  will  pull  through.  He  has  developed  pneu- 
monia." 

"Oh,  dear,  with  all  those  broken  bones  and 
that  terrible  gash!  Isn't  it  dreadful?" 

"Pretty  bad.  Have  you  tried  talking  to  Miss 
Oldham?" 

"I've  tried  everything  and  nothing  will  move 


QUESTIONS    AND    ANSWEES  209 

her.     It's  just  a  kind  of  stubborn  misery  that 
seems  to  have  paralyzed  her,  mind  and  body." 

The  two  sat  in  silence  for  a  moment,  then  the 
Professor  said: 

"Suppose  I  go  down  to  Queen's  to-night  and 
see  Miss  Oldham?  Do  you  think  she  could  be 
induced  to  come  down  into  Mrs.  Markham's  sit- 
ting room  and  have  a  talk  with  me?" 

"I  should  think  so.  She  wouldn't  have  the 
courage  to  decline  to  see  one  of  the  faculty." 

"Very  well.  If  she  is  roused  to  get  up  and 
come  down  stairs,  she  may  come  to  her  senses. 
But  don't  go  yet.  I  have  something  to  tell  you, 
something  that  doesn't  concern  Miss  Oldham  but 
— er — myself.  Do  you  remember  the  opera  I 
told  you  about  ?" 

Molly  nodded. 

"It's  going  into  rehearsal  Christmas  week  and 
will  open  in  six  weeks.  Are  you  pleased?" 

Molly  was  pleased,  of  course.  She  was  always 
glad  of  other  people's  good  luck. 

"How  would  you  like  to  go  to  the  opening?" 
he  asked. 


210      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"It  would  be  wonderful,  but — but  I  don't  see 
how  I  can.  I  told  you  there  were  complications." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  he  answered,  "but  you're  to 
forget  complications  that  night  and  enjoy  my 
first  attempt  to  be  amusing." 

'Til  try,"  answered  Molly,  not  realizing  how 
her  reply  might  sound  to  the  author  of  the  comic 
opera,  who  only  smiled  good-naturedly  and  said : 

"The  music  will  be  pretty  at  any  rate." 

They  sat  talking  about  the  opera  for  some 
time,  in  fact,  until  the  tower  clock  clanged  six. 

"I  never  dreamed  it  was  so  late,"  apologized 
Molly,  "and  I  have  kept  you  all  this  time.  I 
know  you  must  be  awfully  busy.  I  hope  you  will 
forgive  me." 

"Didn't  I  just  say  that  your  time  was  quite 
as  important  as  mine?"  he  said.  "And  when 
two  very  important  people  get  together  the  mo- 
ments are  not  wasted." 

That  night  the  Professor  did  call  on  Nance  at 
Queen's,  and  the  unhappy  girl  was  obliged  to 
get  into  her  things  as  quickly  as  possible  and  go 
down.  What  he  said  to  her  Molly  and  Judy 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWERS  211 

never  knew,  but  in  an  hour  Nance  returned  to 
them  in  a  normal,  sensible  state  of  mind,  and  not 
again  did  she  turn  her  face  to  the  wall  and  refuse 
to  be  comforted. 

"There  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  Professor 
Green  is  the  nicest  person  in  Wellington,  that 
is,  of  the  faculty,"  thought  Molly  as  she  settled 
under  the  reading  lamp,  and  prepared  to  study 
her  Lit.  lesson. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

A  RECOVERY  AND  A  VISIT. 

Young  Andy  McLean  was  not  destined  to  be 
gathered  to  his  forefathers  yet,  however,  and 
before  Christmas  he  was  able  to  sit  up  in  bed 
and  beg  his  mother  fretfully  to  telephone  to  Ex- 
moor  and  ask  some  of  the  fellows  to  come  over. 

"The  doctor  says  you're  not  to  see  any  of  the 
boys  yet,  Andy,"  replied  his  mother  firmly. 

"If  I  can't  see  boys,  is  there  anything  I  can 
see?"  he  demanded  with  extreme  irritability. 

Mrs.  McLean  smiled  and  a  little  later  dis- 
patched a  note  to  Queen's  Cottage.  That  after- 
noon Nance  came  shyly  into  Andy's  room  and 
sat  down  in  a  low  chair  beside  the  white  iron 
hospital  bed  which  had  been  substituted  for  the 
big  old  mahogany  one. 

"Your  mother  says  you  are  lots  better,  Andy," 
she  said. 

212 


A   RECOVERY   AND   A   VISIT  213 

Andy  gave  a  happy,  sheepish  smile  and  wiggled 
two  fingers  weakly,  which  meant  they  were  to 
shake  hands 

"Mother  was  afraid  for  the  fellows  to  come," 
he  said,  "on  account  of  my  heart.  I  suppose  she 
thinks  a  girl  can't  affect  anybody's  heart." 

"I'm  so  quiet,  you  see,"  said  Nance,  "but  I'll 
go  if  you  think  it's  going  to  hurt  you." 

"You  wouldn't  like  to  see  me  cry,  would  you? 
I  boohooed  like  a  kid  this  morning  because  they 
wouldn't  let  me  have  broiled  ham  for  breakfast. 
I  smelt  it  cooking.  It  would  be  just  like  having 
to  give  up  broiled  ham  for  breakfast  to  have  you 
go,  Nance.  Sit  down  again,  will  you,  and  don't 
leave  me  until  I  tell  you.  Since  I've  been  sick 
I've  learned  to  be  a  boss." 

"I'm  'sorry  I  didn't  let  you  boss  me  that  night, 
Andy,"  remarked  Nance  meekly.  "I  ought  never 
to  have  coasted  down  the  hill.  I've  wanted  to 
apologize  ever  since." 

"Have  you  been  blaming  yourself?"  he  broke 
in.  "It  wasn't  your  fault  at  all.  It  all  happened 
because  I  was  angry  and  didn't  look  where  I 


214      MOLLY  BBOWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

was  going.  I  have  had  a  lot  of  time  to  think 
lately,  and  I've  decided  that  there  is  nothing  so 
stupid  as  getting  mad.  You  always  have  to  pay 
for  it  somehow.  Look  at  me:  a  human  wreck 
for  indulging  in  a  fit  of  rage.  There's  a  fellow 
at  Ex.  who  lost  his  temper  in  an  argument  over 
a  baseball  game  and  walked  into  a  door  and  broke 
his  nose." 

Nance  laughed. 

"There  are  other  ways  of  curing  tempers  be- 
sides broken  bones,"  she  said.  "Just  plain  re- 
morse is  as  good  as  a  broken  nose;  at  least  I've 
found  it  so." 

"Did  you  have  the  remorse,  Nance?"  asked 
Andy,  wiggling  the  fingers  of  his  good  hand 
again. 

"Yes,  awfully,  Andy,"  answered  the  young 
girl,  slipping  her  hand  into  his.  "I  felt  just  like 
a  murderer." 

The  nurse  came  in  presently  to  say  that  the 
fifteen  minutes  allotted  for  the  call  was  up.  It 
had  slipped  by  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  but 
their  friendship  had  been  re-established  on  the 


A  EECOVEEY  AND  A  VISIT  215 

old  happy  basis.  Andy  was  unusually  polite  to 
his  mother  and  the  nurse  that  day,  and  Nance 
went  straight  to  the  village  and  bought  two  big 
bunches  of  violets,  one  for  Molly  and  one  for 
Judy.  In  some  way  she  must  give  expression 
to  the  rejoicing  in  her  heart,  and  this  was  the 
only  means  she  could  think  of. 

Besides  Andy  McLean's  recovery,  several 
other  nice  things  happened  before  Christmas. 
One  morning  Judy  burst  into  her  friend's  room 
like  a  wild  creature,  waving  a  letter  in  each  hand. 

"They  are  coming,"  she  cried.  "They  have 
each  written  to  tell  me  so.  Isn't  it  perfect?  Isn't 
it  glorious?" 

No  need  to  tell  Molly  and  Nance  who  "they" 
were.  These  girls  were  fully  aware  that  Judy 
treated  her  mother  and  father  exactly  like  two 
sweethearts,  giving  each  an  equal  share  of  her 
abundant  affections;  but  the  others  were  not  so 
well  informed  about  Judy's  family  relations. 
Otoyo  Sen  began  to  clap  her  hands  and  laugh 
joyously  in  sympathy. 


216      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"Is  it  two  honorable  young  gentlemen  who  ar- 
riving come  to  see  Mees  Kean?" 

"Now,  Otoyo,  how  often  have  I  told  you  not 
to  say  'arriving  come/  "  exclaimed  Molly.  "I 
know  it's  a  fascinating  combination  and  difficult 
to  forget  in  moments  of  excitement,  but  it's  very 
bad  English." 

"Mees  Kean,  she  is  so  happee,"  replied  the 
Japanese  girl,  speaking  slowly  and  carefully.  "I 
cannot  remembering  when  I  see  so  much  great 
joy." 

"Wouldn't  you  be  happy,  too,  if  your  honor- 
able mamma  and  papa  were  coming  to  Welling- 
ton to  visit  you,  you  cunning  little  sparrow-bird  ?" 
asked  Judy,  seizing  Otoyo's  hands  and  dancing 
her  wildly  about  the  room. 

"Oh,  it  is  honorable  mother  and  father !  That 
is  differently.  It  is  not  the  same  in  Japan.  Young 
Japanese  girl  might  make  great  deal  of  noise 
over  something  new  and  very  pretty, — you  see? 
But  it  is  not  respectful  to  jump-up-so  about  par- 
ents arriving." 

There  was  a  great  laugh  at  this.    Otoyo  was 


A   RECOVERY   AND   A   VISIT  217 

an  especial  pet  at  Queen's  with  the  older  girls. 

"She's  like  a  continuous  performance  of  'The 
Mikado/"  remarked  Edith  Williams.  "Three 
little  maids  from  school  rolled  into  one, — the 
quaintest,  most  adorable  little  person." 

"And  when  do  these  honorable  parents  arriv- 
ing come?"  asked  Margaret  Wakefield. 

"To-morrow  afternoon,"  answered  Judy. 
"Where  shall  I  get  rooms?  What  shall  I  take 
them  to  see  ?  Shall  I  give  a  tea  and  ask  the  girls 
to  meet  them  ?  Don't  you  think  a  sleighing  party 
would  be  fun?  And  a  fudge  party  in  the  even- 
ing ?  Papa  loves  fudge.  Do  you  think  it  would 
be  a  good  idea  to  have  dinner  up  here  in  Molly's 
and  Nance's  room,  or  let  papa  give  a  banquet  at 
the  Inn  ?  Do  suggest,  everybody." 

Judy  was  too  excited  to  sit  down.  She  was 
walking  up  and  down  the  room,  her  cheeks  blaz- 
ing and  her  eyes  as  uncannily  bright  as  two  elfin 
lights  on  a  dark  night. 

"Be  calm,  Judy,"  said  Molly,  taking  her  friend 
by  the  shoulders  and  pushing  her  into  a  chair. 
"You'll  work  yourself  into  a  high  fever  with 


218      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

your  excitable  ways.  Now,  sit  down  there  and 
we'll  talk  it  over  quietly  and  arrange  a  program." 

Judy  sat  down  obediently. 

"I  suppose  it  does  seem  funny  to  all  of  you, 
but,  you  see,  mamma  and  papa  and  I  have  been 
brought  up  together " 

"You  mean  you  brought  them  up?"  asked 
Edith. 

"We  brought  each  other  up.  They  call  me 
'little  sister',  and  until  I  went  off  to  college,  be- 
cause papa  insisted  I  must  have  some  education, 
life  was  just  one  beautiful  lark." 

"What  a  jolly  time  you  must  have  had!"  ob- 
served Nance  with  a  wistful  smile  which  re- 
minded the  self-centred  Judy  at  last  that  it  was 
not  exactly  kind  to  pile  it  on  too  thickly  about 
her  delightful  parents. 

Not  a  little  curiosity  was  felt  by  the  Queen's 
girls  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kean,  whom  Judy  had 
described  as  paragons  of  beauty  and  wit,  and 
they  assembled  at  Wellington  station  in  a  body 
to  meet  the  distinguished  pair.  Judy  herself  was 
in  a  quiver  of  happy  excitement  and  when  finally 


A  RECOVERY  AND  A  VISIT  219 

the  train  pulled  into  the  station,  she  rushed  from 
one  platform  to  another  in  her  eagerness.  Of 
course  they  had  taken  the  chair  car  down,  but 
she  was  too  bewildered  to  remember  that  there 
was  but  one  such  coach  on  the  Wellington  train, 
and  it  was  usually  the  rear  car. 

"I  don't  find  them.  Oh,  mamma!  Oh,  papa! 
You  couldn't  have  missed  the  train!"  she  cried, 
addressing  the  spirits  of  the  air. 

Just  then  a  very  tall,  handsome  man  with  eyes 
exactly  like  Judy's  pinioned  her  arms  from  be- 
hind. 

"Well,  little  sister,  don't  you  know  your  own 
father?" 

He  was  just  as  Judy  had  described  him;  and 
her  word-picture  also  fitted  Mrs.  Kean,  a  dainty, 
pretty,  little  woman,  with  a  doll-like  face  and 
flaxen  hair,  who  would  never  have  given  the  im- 
pression that  she  was  in  the  habit  of  roughing 
it  in  engineering  camps,  sleeping  out  of  doors, 
riding  across  sun-baked  plains  on  Texas  bronchos, 
and  accompanying  her  husband  wherever  he 
went  on  his  bridge  and  railroad-building  trips. 


220      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"Judy  hasn't  had  much  home  life,"  she  said 
later  to  Molly.  "We  had  to  take  our  choice,  little 
sister  and  I,  between  a  home  without  papa  or 
papa  without  a  home,  and  we  decided  that  he 
was  ten  thousand  times  more  delightful  than  the 
most  wonderful  palace  ever  built." 

Her  extravagant  speeches  reminded  Molly  of 
Judy;  but  the  mother  was  much  gentler  and 
quieter  than  her  excitable  daughter,  and  perhaps 
not  so  clever. 

They  dined  at  Queen's  that  night  and  made 
a  tour  of  the  entire  house,  except  Judith  Blount's 
room,  all  apartments  having  been  previously 
spruced  up  for  inspection.  Otoyo  had  shown 
her  respect  for  the  occasion  by  hanging  a  Japan- 
ese lantern  from  the  chandelier  and  loading  a 
little  table  with  "meat-sweets,"  which  she  offered 
to  the  guests  when  they  paused  in  her  room  dur- 
ing their  triumphal  progress  through  the  house. 

Later  Molly  and  Nance  entertained  at  a  fudge 
and  stunt  party  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kean  were 
initiated  into  the  secrets  of  life  at  Queen's. 

They  entered  into  the  fun  like  two  children, 


A    RECOVERY    AXD   A   VISIT  221 

and  one  of  the  stunts,  a  dialogue  between  the 
Williams  sisters,  amused  Mr.  Kean  so  much  that 
he  laughed  loud  and  long,  until  his  wife  shook 
him  by  the  shoulder  and  exclaimed: 

"Hush,  Bobbie.  Remember,  you're  not  on  the 
plains,  but  in  a  girls'  boarding  school." 

"Yes,  Robert,"  said  Judy,  who  frequently  spoke 
to  her  parents  by  their  first  names,  "remember 
that  you  are  in  a  place  where  law  and  order  must 
be  maintained." 

"You  shouldn't  give  such  laugh-provoking 
stunts,  then,"  answered  Mr.  Kean,  "but  I'll  try 
and  remember  to  put  on  the  soft  pedal  hereafter." 

Then  Molly,  accompanying  herself  on  Judy's 
guitar,  sang: 

"Big  camp  meetin'  down  the  swamp, 
Oh,  my!  Hallelujah!" 

Mr.  Kean  suddenly  joined  in  with  a  deep, 
booming  bass.  He  had  learned  that  song  many 
years  before  in  the  south,  he  said,  and  had  never 
forgotten  it. 


m   MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"He  never  forgets  anything,"  said  Judy 
proudly,  laying  her  cheek  against  her  father's. 
"And  now,  what  will  you  sing,  Bobbie,  to  amuse 
the  ladies?" 

Mr.  Kean,  without  the  least  embarrassment, 
took  the  guitar,  and,  looking  so  amazingly  like 
Judy  that  they  might  have  been  twins,  sang: 

"Young  Jeremy  Jilson  Johnson  Jenks 
Was  a  lad  of  scarce  nineteen " 

It  was  a  delightful  song  and  the  chorus  so  catchy 
that  after  the  second  verse  the  entire  fudge  and 
stunt  party  joined  in  with: 

'  'Oh,  merry-me,  merry-me/ 
Sang  young  Jeremy, 
'Merry-me,  Lovely  Lou ' ' 

Presently  Mr.  Kean,  seizing  his  daughter 
around  the  waist,  began  dancing,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment everybody  was  twirling  to  that  lively  tune, 
bumping  against  each  other  and  tumbling  on  the 
divans  in  an  effort  to  circle  around  the  room.  All 


A  RECOVERY  AND  A  VISIT  223 

the  time,  Mrs.  Kean,  standing  on  a  chair  in  the 
corner,  was  gently  remonstrating  and  calling  out : 

"Now,  Bobbie,  you  mustn't  make  so  much 
noise.  This  isn't  a  mining  camp." 

Nobody  heard  her  soft  expostulations,  and  only 
the  little  lady  herself  heard  the  sharp  rap  on  the 
door  and  noticed  a  piece  of  paper  shoved  under 
the  crack.  Resetting  it  from  under  the  feet  of 
the  dancers,  and  seeing  that  it  was  addressed  to 
"Miss  Kean,"  she  opened  and  read  it. 

"Oh,  how  very  mortifying,"  she  exclaimed. 
"Now,  Bobbie,  I  knew  you  would  get  these  girls 
into  some  scrape.  You  are  always  so  noisy.  See 
here!  Our  own  Judy  being  reprimanded!  You 
must  make  your  father  explain  to  the  President 
or  Matron  or  whoever  this  Miss  Blount  is,  that 
it  was  all  his  fault." 

"What  in  the  world  are  you  talking  about, 
Julia  Kean  ?"  demanded  Judy,  snatching  the  note 
from  her  mother  and  reading  it  rapidly.  "Well, 
of  all  the  unexampled  impudence !"  she  cried  when 
she  had  finished.  "Will  you  be  good  enough  to 
listen  to  this? 


224      MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"  'Miss  Kean :  You  and  your  family  are  a 
little  too  noisy  for  the  comfort  of  the  other  ten- 
ants in  this  house.  Those  of  us  who  wish  to 
study  and  rest  cannot  do  so.  This  is  not  a  dance 
hall  nor  a  mining  camp.  Will  you  kindly  ar- 
range to  entertain  more  quietly?  The  singing  is 
especially  obnoxious. 

"  'JUDITH  BLOUNT/  " 

Judy  was  in  such  a  white  heat  of  rage  when 
she  finished  reading  the  note,  that  her  mother 
was  obliged  to  quiet  her  by  smoothing  her  fore- 
head and  saying  over  and  over : 

"There,  there,  my  darling,  don't  mind  it  so 
much.  No  doubt  the  young  person  was  quite 
right." 

Mr.  Kean  was  intensely  amused  over  the  let- 
ter. He  read  it  to  himself  twice;  then  laughed 
and  slapped  his  knee,  exclaiming: 

"By  Jove,  Judy,  my  love,  it  takes  a  woman  to 
write  a  note  like  that." 

"A  woman?    A  cat!"  broke  in  Judy. 

Mrs.  Kean  put  her  hand  over  her  daughter's 
mouth  and  looked  shocked. 


A    RECOVEEY    AND    A    VISIT  225 

"Oh,  Judy,  my  dearest,  you  mustn't  say  such 
unladylike  things,"  she  cried. 

"It's  just  because  she  wasn't  invited,"  contin- 
ued Judy.  "I  wouldn't  let  the  girls  ask  her  this 
time.  She  usually  is  invited  and  makes  as  much 
racket  as  any  of  us." 

"It  was  rather  mean  to  leave  her  out,"  ob- 
served Molly.  "I  suppose  she's  sore  about  it. 
But  we  didn't  ask  all  the  girls  at  Queen's.  Sal- 
lie  Marks  and  two  freshmen  were  not  invited, 
and  if  we  had  gone  outside,  we'd  have  invited 
Mary  Stewart  and  Mabel  Hinton." 

"Still,"  said  Mr.  Kean,  "there's  nothing  meaner 
than  the  'left-out'  feeling.  It  cuts  deep.  Sup- 
pose we  smooth  things  over  by  asking  her  to  our 
next  party.  Let  me  see.  Will  all  of  you  give 
Mrs.  Kean  and  me  the  pleasure  of  having  you 
dine  with  us  to-morrow  evening  at  the  Inn  ?  Now, 
may  I  borrow  some  writing  materials?"  he 
added,  after  a  chorus  of  acceptances  had  been 
raised. 

Nance  conducted  him  to  her  writing  desk, 
which  was  always  the  acme  of  neatness,  and  well 


226      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
stocked  with  stationery.     Here  is  the  letter  that 
Mr.  Kean  wrote  to  Judith  Blount,  which  Judy, 
looking  over  her  father's  shoulder,  read  aloud 
as  it  evolved: 

"  'Dear  Miss  Blount:'  (Blount,  did  you  say  her 
name  was?  Humph!)  'You  were  quite  right 
to  scold  Mr.  Kean  and  me  for  making  so  much 
noise.  It  was  inconsiderate  of  us ' ' 

"But,  Bobbie,"  protested  Mrs.  Kean,  "it  isn't 
fair  to  lay  the  blame  on  me  and  make  me  write 
the  letter,  too." 

"Be  quiet,  my  love,"  answered  her  husband. 

"  'Will  you  not  give  us  the  pleasure  of  your 
company  at  dinner  to-morrow  evening  at  the  Inn? 
We  are  anxious  to  show  you  what  really  quiet, 
law-abiding  people  we  are,  and  Mr.  Kean  and  I 
will  be  much  disappointed  if  you  do  not  allow  us 
the  opportunity  to  prove  it  to  you.' ' 

Judy's  father  paused,  his  pen  suspended,  while 
he  asked: 

"Didn't  I  see  bill  posters  at  the  station  an- 
nouncing a  performance  at  the  Opera  House?3' 


A   RECOVERY   AND   A   VISIT  227 

"Yes,"  cried  Judy.  "They're  giving  'The  Sil- 
ver King.'  " 

"  'Dinner  will  be  a  little  early/  "  he  wrote, 
'  'because  Mr.  Kean  is  planning  to  take  us  all 
to  the  play  afterwards.     He  will  call  for  you 
in' what  shall  I  call  for  you  in  ?" 

"The  bus,"  promptly  answered  every  girl  in 
the  room. 

' ' — the  bus  at  six  fifteen.  Anticipating  much 
pleasure  in  having  you  with  us  to-morrow,  be- 
lieve me,  Most  cordially  yours, 

JUUA  S.  KEAN/  " 

"Now,  Julia,  my  love,  sit  down  and  copy  what 
I've  written  in  your  best  handwriting,  and  we'll 
try  to  smooth  down  this  fiery  young  person's 
ruffied  feathers." 

Mrs.  Kean  obediently  copied  the  note.  After 
all,  it  wasn't  an  unkind  revenge,  and  Otoyo  de- 
livered it  at  Judith's  door  while  the  others  chat- 
ted quietly  and  absorbed  quantities  of  hot  fudge 
and  crackers. 

Presently  Otoyo  stole  softly  back  into  the  room. 

"What  did  she  say,  little  one  ?"  asked  Judy. 


228       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

''She  was  very  stilly,"  answered  Otoyo  shyly. 
"She  spoke  nothing  whatever.  I  thought  it  more 
wisely  to  departing  go." 

The  laugh  that  was  raised  at  this  lucid  report 
restored  good  humor  in  the  company. 

A  vehicle  called  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kean  at 
a  quarter  before  ten  to  take  them  down  into  the 
village,  and  it  was  not  long  before  every  light 
was  out  in  Queen's  Cottage  but  one  in  a  small 
single  room  in  an  upper  story.  Here,  in  front 
of  the  mirror  over  the  dressing  table,  sat  a  black- 
eyed  girl  in  a  red  silk  dressing  gown. 

"Judith,"  she  said  fiercely  to  her  image  in  the 
glass,  "can't  you  remember  that  you  are  too  poor 
to  insult  people  any  longer?" 

Then  she  rolled  up  Mrs.  Kean's  note  into  a 
little  ball  and  flung  it  across  the  room  with  such 
force  that  it  hit  the  other  wall  and  bounded  back 
again  to  her  feet,  and  she  ground  it  under  her 
heel.  After  this  exhibition  of  impotent  rage,  she 
put  out  her  light  and  flung  herself  into  the  bed, 
where  she  tossed  about  uneasily  and  exclaimed 
to  herself: 


A    EECOVEEY   AND    A   VISIT  229 

"I  won't  be  poor !  I  won't  work.  I  hate  this 
hideous  little  room  and  I  loathe  Queen's  Cottage. 
I  wish  I  had  never  been  born." 

Nevertheless,  Judith  Blount  did  humble  her- 
self next  day  to  accept  Mrs.  Kean's  invitation. 
At  the  dinner  she  was  sullen  and  quiet,  but  she 
could  not  hide  her  enjoyment  of  the  melodrama 
later. 

The  one  taste  which  she  had  in  common  with 
her  brother  Richard  was  an  affection  for  the 
theatre,  no  matter  how  crude  the  acting,  nor  how 
hackneyed  the  play. 

But  the  insulting  letter  that  she  had  sent  to 
Judy  Kean  widened  the  breach  between  her  and 
the  Queen's  girls,  and  no  amount  of  effort  on 
her  part  after  that  could  bridge  it  over. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 
CHRISTMAS  EVE:  PLOTS. 

Molly  was  not  sorry  to  spend  Christmas  in 
Wellington  this  year.  Numbers  of  invitations 
had  come  to  her,  but  even  Mary  Stewart  could 
not  tempt  her  away  from  Queen's  Cottage. 

"Otoyo  and  I  shan't  be  lonesome,"  she  said. 
"We  have  a  lot  of  work  to  do  before  the  mid- 
year exams,  and  by  the  time  you  come  back, 
Otoyo's  adverbs  are  going  to  modify  verbs,  ad- 
jectives and  other  adverbs.  You'll  see,"  she  as- 
sured her  friends  cheerfully. 

And  when  the  last  train-load  pulled  out  of 
Wellington,  and  she  trudged  back  along  the  de- 
serted avenue,  there  was  a  strange  gladness  in 
her  heart. 

"I'm  not  homesick  and  I'm  not  lonesome,"  she 
said  to  herself.  "I'm  just  happy.  Except  for 
Otoyo's  lessons,  I'm  going  to  give  myself  a  holi- 

230 


CHRISTMAS    EVE    PLOTS  231 

day.  I'm  going  to  read— poetry — lots  of  it,  all 
I  want,  and  to  sit  in  the  library  and  think.  I'm 
going  to  take  long  walks  alone.  It  will  be  like 
seeing  the  last  of  a  dear  friend,  because  Wel- 
lington will  not  be  Wellington  to  me  when  I  am 
installed  at  O'Reilly's." 

Hardly  half  a  dozen  girls  remained  at  college 
that  Christmas,  and  Molly  was  glad  that  she 
knew  them  only  by  sight.  She  was  almost  glad 
that  the  doctor  and  Mrs.  McLean  had  taken  Andy 
south.  She  could  not  explain  this  unusual  lack 
of  sociability  on  her  part,  but  she  did  not  want 
to  be  asked  anywhere.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  sit 
with  Otoyo  at  one  end  of  the  long  table  in  Queen's 
dining  room,  and  talk  about  the  good  times  they 
had  been  having.  As  for  the  future,  Molly  hung 
a  thick  veil  between  these  quiet  days  and  the 
days  to  come.  Through  it  dimly  she  could  see 
the  bare  little  room  at  O'Reilly's,  sometimes,  but 
whenever  this  vision  rose  in  her  mind,  she  reso- 
lutely began  to  think  of  something  else. 

It  would  be  time  enough  to  look  it  in  the  face 
at  the  end  of  the  semester,  when  she  must  "break 


232       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
the  news  to  Nance  and  Judy  and  pack  her  things 
for  the  move. 

Most  of  the  girls  had  left  on  Saturday,  and 
it  seemed  to  Molly  that  Sunday  was  the  quietest 
day  of  her  whole  life.  Scarcely  a  dozen  persons 
appeared  at  the  Chapel  for  Vespers  and  the  re- 
sponses had  to  be  spoken,  the  choir  having  de- 
parted for  the  holidays.  Monday  was  Christmas 
Eve,  and  on  that  morning  Mrs.  Murphy,  kind, 
good-natured  soul  that  she  was,  carried  Molly's 
breakfast  to  her  room  with  a  pile  of  letters  from 
home.  Molly  read  them  while  she  drank  her 
coffee,  and  saw  plainly  through  their  thinly  veiled 
attempts  at  cheerfulness.  It  was  evident  that  her 
family's  fortunes  were  at  a  low  ebb.  Her  mother 
was  glad  that  Miss  Walker  had  arranged  for  her 
to  stay  at  college  and  she  hoped  Molly  would  be 
happy  in  her  new  quarters. 

Molly  finished  her  dressing. 

"If  I  could  only  do  something,"  she  said  to 
herself  fiercely  as  she  pinned  on  the  blue  tarn, 
buttoned  up  her  sweater  and  started  out  for  a 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  PLOTS  233 

walk.  Otoyo,  that  model  of  industry,  was  deep 
in  her  lessons  as  Molly  passed  her  door. 

"I'll  be  back  for  lunch,  Otoyo,"  she  called  as 
she  hurried  downstairs. 

She  had  no  sooner  left  the  house  than  Queen's 
Cottage  became  the  scene  of  the  most  surprising 
activities.  Little  Otoyo  leaped  to  her  feet  as  if 
she  had  unexpectedly  sat  on  a  hornet's  nest  and 
trotted  downstairs  as  fast  as  her  diminutive  legs 
could  carry  her. 

"Mrs.  Murphee,  I  am  readee,"  she  called. 

There  was  no  telling  what  plot  they  were 
hatching,  these  two  souls  from  nations  as  widely 
different  as  night  from  day.  Boxes  were  pulled 
from  mysterious  closets.  Mrs.  Murphy  and  one 
of  the  maids  emerged  from  the  cellar  with  their 
arms  full  of  greens  and,  stranger  still,  the  dig- 
nified Professor  of  English  Literature  actually 
made  his  appearance  at  the  kitchen  door  with  a 
big  market  basket  on  one  arm  and — but  what  the 
Professor  carried  under  the  other  arm  had  been 
carefully  concealed  with  wrapping  paper.  These 
things  he  deposited  with  Mrs.  Murphy. 


234      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"It's  a  pleasant  sight,  surely,  to  see  you  this 
Christmas  Eve  marnin',  Professor,"  exclaimed 
the  Irish  woman.  "You're  as  ruddy  as  a  holly 
berry,  sir,  and  no  mistake." 

"Well,  Mrs.  Murphy,  I'm  a  Christmas  Green, 
you  know,"  answered  the  Professor,  and  Mrs. 
Murphy  laughed  like  a  child  over  the  little  joke. 

"As  for  the  young  Japanese  lady,  she  is  that 
busy,  sir.  You  would  niver  expect  a  haythen 
born  to  take  on  so  about  the  birthday  of  our 
blessed  Lord.  But  she's  half  a  Catholic  already, 
sir,  and  she's  bought  a  holy  candle  to  burn  to- 
night." 

"You're  a  good  woman,  Mrs.  Murphy,"  said 
the  Professor,  standing  beside  the  well-laden 
kitchen  table,  "and  whatever  she  learns  from  you 
will  do  her  good,  too.  She's  a  long  way  from 
home  and  I  have  no  doubt  she'll  be  very  thankful 
for  a  little  mothering,  poor  child." 

"Indade,  and  she's  as  cheerful  as  the  day  is 
long,  sir.  And  so  is  the  other  young  lady,  and 
she's  used  to  a  deal  of  rejicin'  in  her  family,  too. 
I  can  tell  by  the  way  she  loves  the  entertainin'. 


CHRISTMAS    EVE    PLOTS  235 

Her  company  niver  goes  away  hungry  and 
thirsty,  sir.  It's  tea  and  cake  always  and  more 
besides.  'Have  you  a  little  spare  room  in  your 
oven  so  that  I  can  bake  some  muffins  for  some 
friends  this  mornin',  Mrs.  Murphy?'  she'll  say 
of  a  Sunday.  She's  that  hospitable  and  kind, 
sir.  There's  nobody  like  her  in  Queen's.  I'd 
be  sorry  ever  to  lose  her." 

"Should  you  call  her  hair  red,  Mrs.  Murphy?" 
asked  the  Professor  irrelevantly. 

"It's  more  red  than  anything  else,  sir,  espe- 
cially when  the  weather's  damp." 

"And  what  color  should  you  say  her  eyes  were, 
Mrs.  Murphy?" 

"An'  you've  not  seen  her  eyes,  surely,  sir,  if 
you  can  be  askin'  me  that  question.  They're  as 
blue — as  blue,  sir,  like  the  skies  in  summer." 

The  Professor  blinked  his  own  brown  eyes 
very  thoughtfully. 

"Well,  good  day,  Mrs.  Murphy,  I  must  be  off. 
Do  you  think  you  and  Miss  Sen  together  can 
manage  things  ?" 

"We  can,  surely,"  said  Mrs.  Murphy.    "She's 


236       MOLLY  BKOWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

as  neat  and  quick  a  little  body  as  I've  seen  this 
side  the  Atlantic." 

"My  sister  gets  here  at  noon.  Good  day,"  and 
the  Professor  was  off,  around  the  house,  and 
across  the  campus,  before  Mrs.  Murphy  could 
take  breath  to  continue  her  conversation. 

In  the  meantime,  Molly  was  hastening  through 
the  pine  woods  to  a  grove  where  she  had  once 
seen  some  holly  bushes.  In  the  pocket  of  her 
sweater  were  a  pair  of  scissors  and  a  penknife. 

"We  must  have  a  little  holiday  decoration, 
Otoyo  and  I,"  she  said  to  herself.  "And  it's  lots 
nicer  to  gather  it  than  buy  it  at  the  grocery  store. 
I  suppose  my  box  from  home  will  reach  here  to- 
night. I'll  ask  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Murphy  up  to- 
morrdw  and  give  a  party.  There'll  be  turkey  in 
it,  of  course,  and  plum  cake  and  blackberry  cor- 
dial— it  won't  be  such  a  bad  Christmas.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Murphy  are  dears — I  must  do  up  their  pres- 
ents this  afternoon.  I  hope  Otoyo  will  like  the 
little  book.  She'll  be  interested  to  know  that  Pro- 
fessor Green  wrote  it." 

As  she  hurried  along,  breathing  in  the  frosty 


CHRISTMAS   EYE   PLOTS  237 

air,  like  Pilgrim  she  spied  a  figure  a  great  way 
off  coming  toward  her. 

"Another  left-over,"  she  thought  and  went  on 
her  way,  her  steps  keeping  time  to  a  poem  she 
was  repeating  out  loud : 

"  'St.  Agnes'  Eve— ah,  bitter  chill  it  was ! 

The  owl  for  all  his  feathers  was  a-cold ; 
The  hare  limp'd  trembling  through  the  frozen 

grass 
And  silent  was  the  flock  in  woolly  fold ' ' 

Molly  had  just  repeated  the  last  line  over,  too 
absorbed  to  notice  the  advancing  figure  through 
the  pine  trees,  except  sub-consciously  to  see  that 
it  was  a  girl. 

"Ah,  here's  the  holly,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  'Numb  were  the  beadsman's  fingers 

She  knelt  on  the  frozen  ground  and  began  cut- 
ting off  branches  with  the  penknife. 

"I  suppose  you  are  rather  surprised  to  see  me, 
aren't  you?" 

Molly  looked  up.    It  was  Judith  Blount. 


238      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"Why,  where  did  you  come  from,  Judith  ?"  she 
asked.  "Didn't  you  go  up  to  New  York  Friday, 
after  all?" 

"I  was  supposed  to,  but  I  didn't.  I  am  staying 
down  in  the  village  at  the  Inn.  I  may  go  this 
afternoon.  I  haven't  decided  yet.  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  am  not  very  anxious  to  see  my  family. 
Papa — isn't  at  home  and  Richard  and  mamma 
are  rather  gloomy  company.  I  think  I'd  rather 
spend  Christmas  almost  anywhere  than  with 
them,  this  year." 

"But  your  mother,  Judith,"  exclaimed  Molly, 
shocked  at  Judith's  lack  of  feeling,  "doesn't  she 
need  you  now  more  than  ever?" 

"Why?"  demanded  Judith  suspiciously.  "What 
do  you  know  of  my  affairs?" 

"I  happen  to  know  a  great  deal,"  answered 
Molly,  "since  they  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with 
my  own  affairs." 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Now,  Judith,"  went  on  Molly,  "this  is  Christ- 
mas and  we  won't  quarrel  about  our  misfortunes. 
Whatever  mine  are,  it's  not  your  fault.  I'm 


CHRISTMAS   EVE   PLOTS  239 

gathering  some  holly  to  decorate  for  Otoyo  and 
me.  Won't  you  help  me?" 

"No,  thanks,"  answered  the  other  coldly.  "I 
don't  feel  much  like  Christmas  this  year,"  she 
burst  out,  after  a  pause.  "I'm  seeing  my  last  of 
college  now,  unless  I  choose  to  stay  under  cer- 
tain conditions — and  I  won't — I  won't,"  she  re- 
peated, stamping  her  foot  fiercely  on  the  frozen 
earth,  which  gave  out  a  rhythmic  sound  under 
the  blow.  "Queen's  is  bad  enough,  but  if  I  am 
to  descend  to  a  room  over  the  post-office  after  this 
semester,  I'd — I'd  rather  die!"  she  added  furi- 
ously. 

"We're  in  the  same  box,"  thought  Molly.  "I 
can  appreciate  how  she  feels,  poor  soul.  I  was 
just  about  as  bad  myself  at  first." 

"Do  you  blame  me?"  went  on  the  unhappy 
Judith.  "Through  no  fault  of  mine  I've  had 
troubles  heaped  on  me  all  winter — first  one  and 
then  another.  I  have  had  to  suffer  for  another 
person's  sins ;  to  be  crushed  into  a  nobody ;  taken 
from  my  rightful  place  and  shoved  off  first  into 
one  miserable  little  hole  and  then  another.  I  tell 


240       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

you  I  don't  think  it's  fair — it's  unkind — it's 
cruel!" 

Molly  was  not  accustomed  to  hear  people  pity 
themselves.  She  had  been  brought  up  to  regard 
it  as  an  evidence  of  cowardice  and  low  breeding. 

"I've  just  about  made  up  my  mind,"  continued 
Judith,  "to  chuck  the  whole  thing  and  go  on  the 
stage.  I  can  sing  and  dance,  and  I  believe  I  could 
get  into  almost  any  chorus.  Richard,  of  course, 
wouldn't  hear  of  my  taking  part  in  his  new  opera 
and  he  could  arrange  it  just  as  easily  as  not,  but 
he  doesn't  approve  and  neither  does  mamma. 
But  it  would  be  less  humiliating  than  this."  She 
pointed  to  Wellington. 

"But  Judith,  it  would  be  a  great  deal  more 
humiliating,"  ejaculated  Molly.  "You  would  be 
fussed  with  and  scolded,  and  you'd  hear  horrid 
language,  and  live  in  wretched  hotels  and  board- 
ing houses  a  great  deal  worse  than  the  rooms 
over  the  post-office !" 

It  was  very  little  Molly  knew  about  chorus  girl 
life,  but  that  little  she  now  turned  to  good  ac- 
count. 


CHRISTMAS    EVE    PLOTS  211 

"You  would  have  to  travel  a  lot  on  smoky,  un- 
comfortable trains  and  stay  up  late  at  night, 
whether  you  wanted  to  or  not.  You  wouldn't 
be  treated  like  a  lady,"  she  added  innocently, 
"and  you'd  have  to  cover  your  face  with  grease 
and  paint  every  night." 

"I  don't  care,"  answered  Judith.  "Anything 
would  be  better  than  being  banished  from  Well- 
ington and  living  in  a  room  next  to  that  talkative 
little  southern  girl  who  does  laundry  work." 

"Judith,"  exclaimed  Molly,  "I'm  being  ban- 
ished from  Wellington,  too.  I've  taken  a  room 
at  O'Reilly's.  I've  been  through  all  the  misery 
you're  going  through,  and  I  know  what  you  are 
suffering.  I  was  almost  at  the  point  of  going 
home  once.  But  Judith,  don't  you  see  that  it's 
rather  cowardly  to  enjoy  prosperity  and  the  good 
things  that  come  in  time  of  peace,  and  then  run 
away  when  the  real  fight  begins  ?  And  it  wouldn't 
do  any  good,  either.  It  would  only  make  other 
people  suffer  and  we'd  be  much  worse  off  our- 
selves. Don't  you  think  Judith  Blount,  B.  A., 


242       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
would  be  a  more  important  person  than  Judith 
Blount,  Chorus  Girl?" 

Judith  began  picking  the  leaves  off  a  piece  of 
holly.  Almost  everything  she  did  was  destruc- 
tive. 

"I  suppose  you're  right,"  she  said  at  last. 
"Mamma  and  Richard  would  have  a  fit  and  the 
chorus  girl  role  wouldn't  suit  me,  either.  I'm  too 
high-tempered  and  I  can't  stand  criticism.  But 
you're  going  to  O'Reilly's?  That  puts  a  new 
face  on  it.  I'll  change  to  O'Reilly's,  too." 

Molly  groaned  inwardly.  She  would  almost 
rather  live  next  to  a  talking  machine  than  a  fire- 
brand. 

"They  aren't  such  bad  rooms,"  she  said  quietly. 
"When  we  get  our  things  in,  they'll  be  quite  nice." 

"And  now,  I'll  hurry  on,"  continued  Judith, 
utterly  absorbed  in  her  own  affairs.  "I  think  I 
will  take  the  train  to  New  York  this  afternoon. 
I  suppose  it  would  be  rather  cowardly  to  leave 
mamma  and  Richard  alone,  this  Christmas,  es- 
pecially. Qood-by."  She  held  out  her  hand. 


CHRISTMAS    EVE    PLOTS  243 

"What  are  your  plans?  Are  you  going  to  do 
anything  tonight  to  celebrate?" 

"No,"  answered  Molly,  shaking  Judith's  hand 
with  as  much  cordiality  as  she  could  muster. 
"Just  go  to  bed." 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  had  formed  some 
scheme  of  entertainment  with  my  cousins." 

"You  mean  the  Greens?  I  didn't  know  they 
were  here." 

"I  don't  know  that  they  are  here,  either.  They 
have  been  careful  to  keep  their  plans  from  me." 

Molly  ignored  this  implication. 

"I  hope  you'll  enjoy  your  Christmas,  Judith," 
she  said.  "Perhaps  something  will  turn  up." 

"Something  will  have  to  turn  up  after  next 
year,"  exclaimed  Judith,  "for  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  one  thing.  I  shall  never  work  for  a 
living." 

And  she  strode  off  through  the  pine  woods 
with  her  chin  in  the  air,  as  if  she  were  defying 
all  the  powers  in  heaven  to  make  her  change  this 
resolution. 

Molly  shivered  as  she  knelt  to  clip  the  holly. 


244      MOLLY  BKOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

She  seemed  to  see  a  picture  of  a  tiny  little  Judith 
standing  in  the  middle  of  a  vast,  endless  plain 
raging  and  shaking  her  fists  at — what?  The 
empty  air.  She  sighed. 

"I  don't  suppose  I  could  ever  make  her  under- 
stand that  she'd  be  lots  happier  if  she'd  just  let 
go  and  stop  thinking  that  God  has  a  grudge 
against  her." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A   CHRISTMAS   SURPRISE. 

At  six  o'clock  that  evening  a  mouse's  tail 
brushed  Molly's  door. 

"Come  in,  little  one,"  called  Molly,  recogniz- 
ing Otoyo's  tap.  "My,  how  dressed  up  you  are !" 
she  cried  as  the  little  Japanese  appeared  in  the 
doorway  blushing  and  hesitating. 

"You  like  it?  This  is  real  American  young 
lady's  toilet.  It  came  from  a  greatly  big  store 
in  New  York." 

Molly  felt  a  real  regret  sometimes  in  correct- 
ing Otoyo's  funny  English.  Was  not  the  Brown 
family  careful  for  many  years  to  call  bears 
"b'ars"  just  because  the  youngest  brother  said  it 
when  he  was  a  little  child  ? 

"But  why  did  you  wear  your  pink  cashmere 
this  evening,  dear?"  she  asked. 

245 


246      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"Ah,  but  this  is  a  holidee.  In  Japan  we  wear 
always  best  on  holidee." 

"Then  I  must  dress  up,  too,  I  suppose,"  re- 
marked Molly,  sighing,  "and  I  had  thought  to 
let  myself  off  easy  to-night,  Otoyo.  But  I 
couldn't  appear  before  Mrs.  Murphy  in  this  old 
garment  and  you  so  resplendent.  What  shall  I 
wear  chicken  ?"  she  asked,  pinching  Otoyo's  cheek. 

"The  dress  of  sky  blue." 

"What,  my  last  year's  best?"  laughed  Molly. 
"My  lady,  you  ask  too  much.  I  must  preserve 
that  for  year  after  next  best.  But,  seeing  that 
you  are  doing  honor  to  this  happy  occasion,  Miss 
Sen,  I'll  wear  it  to  please  you." 

She  soon  attired  herself  in  the  blue  crepe  de 
chine  over  which  she  and  Nance  had  labored  so 
industriously  the  winter  before. 

The  two  girls  strolled  downstairs  together  and 
at  the  first  landing  Molly  began  sniffing  the  air. 

'  'If  my  ole  nose  don't  tell  no  lies, 
It  'pears  like  I  smells  custard  pies,' ' 

she  remarked  smiling. 


A    CHRISTMAS    SURPRISE  247 

"It's  meence,"  said  Otoyo. 
Molly   squeezed    the   little   Japanese's   plump 
waist. 

"Yes,  I  know  it's  'meence,'  "  she  said,  "but  cus- 
tard pies  stand  for  mince  and  turkey  and  baked 
macaroni  and  all  sorts  of  good  things.  We'll 
soon  find  out  what  Mrs.  Murphy's  been  up 
to." 

Pushing  open  the  dining  room  door,  she  gave  a 
start  of  surprise.  The  room  was  deserted  and 
almost  dark,  and  the  long  table  was  not  even  set 
for  two. 

"Why,  we  must  have  come  down  too  soon, 
Otoyo.  You  little  monkey,  you  led  me  to  believe 
it  was  quite  late." 

Otoyo  smiled  and  winked  both  eyes  rapidly 
several  times. 

"I  think  Mrs.  Murphee  is  a  very  week-ed 
ladee,"  she  said  slowly.  "She  run  away  from 
thees  house  and  leave  us  all  alone.  We  shall 
have  no  deener?  Ah,  that  will  be  very  sadlee." 

They  retreated  from  the  dismal,  deserted  din- 
ing room  into  the  hall.  Immediately  a  door  at 


348       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

the  far  end  was  thrown  open  and  a  flood  of  light 
poured  from  Mrs.  Markham's  sitting  room. 
Then  Mrs.  Murphy's  ample  figure  blocked  the 
doorway,  and  in  her  rich  Irish  brogue  she  called : 

"You  poor  little  lost  lambs,  is  it  for  me  you're 
lookin',  then?  Here  I  am  and  here's  your  sup- 
per waitin'  for  you." 

Mrs.  Markham  was  away  for  the  holidays. 

"All  right,  Mrs.  Murphy,"  called  Molly  cheer- 
fully. Taking  Otoyo's  hand,  she  led  her  down 
the  hall.  "Why,  little  one,  I  don't  believe  you 
are  well,"  she  exclaimed.  "Your  hands  are  cold 
and  you  are  trembling." 

The  truth  is,  Miss  Sen  was  almost  hysterical 
with  suppressed  excitement. 

"No,  no,  no,"  she  replied.  "I  am  feeling  quite, 
quitely  well." 

Grasping  Molly's  hand  more  firmly,  she  began 
running  as  if  the  strain  were  too  great  to  be 
endured  longer. 

All  this  time  Molly  had  not  the  faintest  sus- 
picion of  the  surprises  awaiting  her  in  Mrs. 
Markham's  sitting  room.  Imagine  her  amaze- 


A   CHRISTMAS   SURPRISE  249 

ment  when  she  found  herself  confronting  Miss 
Grace  Green,  her  two  brothers  and  Lawrence  Up- 
ton in  that  cozy  apartment !  In  the  center  was  a 
round  table  set  for  six,  and  in  the  center  of  the 
round  table  was  the  most  adorable  miniature 
Christmas  tree  decorated  with  tiny  ornaments 
and  little  candles,  their  diminutive  points  of  light 
blinking  cheerfully.  Four  tall  silver  candlesticks 
with  red  shades  flanked  the  Christmas  tree  at 
each  side;  a  wood  fire  crackled  in  the  open  fire- 
place and  everywhere  were  bunches  and  garlands 
of  holly. 

Molly  was  quite  speechless  at  first  and  she 
came  very  near  crying.  But  she  choked  back  the 
lump  which  would  rise  in  her  throat  and  smiled 
bravely  at  the  company. 

"I  hope  you  are  pleased  with  the  surprise, 
dear,"  said  Miss  Grace  Green,  kissing  her.  "It 
seemed  to  Edwin  and  me  that  six  homeless  people 
should  unite  in  making  a  Christmas  for  them- 
selves. Lawrence  is  like  you.  He  lives  too  far 
away  for  Christmas  at  home,  and  I  am  at  the 
mercies  of  a  boarding  house.  So,  Mrs.  Mur- 


250      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

phy  has  agreed  to  be  a  mother  to  all  of  us  this 
Christmas  and  cheer  us  up." 

"Shure,  and  I'd  like  to  be  the  mother  of  such 
a  foine  family,"  said  Mrs.  Murphy.  "Me  old 
man  wouldn't  mind  the  responsibility,  either,  I'm 
thinkinV 

They  all  laughed  and  Molly  found  herself 
shaking  hands  with  Professor  Green  and  Dodo 
and  Lawrence  Upton ;  kissing  Miss  Green  again ; 
rapturously  admiring  the  exquisite  little  tree  and 
rushing  from  one  holly  decoration  to  another,  to 
the  joy  of  Otoyo,  who  had  arranged  the  greens 
with  her  own  hands. 

Surely  such  a  happy  Christmas  party  had 
never  taken  place  before  at  old  brown  Queen's. 
Mrs.  Murphy  herself  waited  on  the  table  and 
joined  in  the  conversation  whenever  she  chose, 
and  once  Mr.  Murphy,  baggage  master  at  Wel- 
lington station,  popped  his  head  in  at  the  door 
and  smiling  broadly,  remarked : 

"Shure,  'tis  a  happy  party  ye're  after  makin' 
the  night;  brothers  and  sisters;  swatehearts  and 
frinds — all  gathered  togither  around  the  same 


A   CHRISTMAS    SURPRISE  251 

board.  It'll  be  a  merry  evenin'  for  ye,  young 
ladies  and  gintlemin,  and  it's  wishin'  ye  well  I 
am  with  all  me  heart." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Murphy,"  said  the  Professor, 
"and  we  be  wishin'  the  same  to  you  and  many 
Christmasses  to  follow." 

"Which  one  of  us  is  your  swateheart,  Miss 
Sen?"  asked  Lawrence  Upton  mischievously. 

"I  like  better  the  'meat-sweet'  than  the  sweet- 
heart," answered  Miss  Sen  demurely.  There 
was  no  doubt,  however,  that  she  knew  the  mean- 
ing of  the  word  "sweetheart." 

How  they  all  laughed  at  this  and  teased  Law- 
rence. 

"Just  be  bonbon  and  you'll  be  a  'meat-sweet,' 
Larry,"  said  the  Professor,  who  appeared  this 
evening  to  have  laid  aside  all  official  dignity  and 
become  as  youthful  as  his  brother  Dodo. 

After  dinner  the  table  was  cleared,  the  fire 
built  up,  and  the  company  gathered  around  the 
hearth.  They  roasted  chestnuts  and  told  ghost 
stories.  Otoyo  in  the  quaintest  English  told  a 
blood-curdling  Japanese  story  which  interested 


252      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

Professor  Green  so  deeply  that  he  took  out  a  little 
book  and  jotted  down  notes,  and  questioned  her 
regarding  names  and  places. 

Molly  knew  a  true  story  of  a  haunted  house 
in  Kentucky,  fallen  into  ruins  because  no  one 
had  dared  live  in  it  for  years. 

Then  Mrs.  Murphy  brought  in  the  lamps  and 
Professor  Green  drew  up  at  the  table  and  read 
aloud  Dickens's  "Christmas  Carol."  Molly's 
mother  had  read  to  her  children  the  immortal 
story  of  "Tiny  Tim"  ever  since  they  could  re- 
member on  Christmas  day,  and  it  gave  Molly 
much  secret  pleasure  to  know  that  these  dear  kind 
friends  had  kept  up  the  same  practice.  After 
that  they  fetched  down  Judy's  guitar  and,  with 
Molly  accompanying,  they  sang  some  of  the  good 
old  songs  that  people  think  they  have  forgotten 
until  they  hear  the  thrum  of  the  guitar  and  some- 
one starts  the  singing. 

At  last  the  tower  clock  boomed  midnight,  and 
as  the  echo  of  the  final  stroke  vibrated  in  the 
room,  the  door  opened  and  Santa  Claus  stood  on 
the  threshold, 


A   CHRISTMAS    SURPRISE  253 

"Shure,  an'  I'm  just  on  the  nick  of  time,"  he 
said  with  a  good  Irish  accent,  as  he  unstrapped 
his  pack  and  proceeded  to  distribute  packages 
done  up  in  white  tissue  paper  tied  with  red  rib- 
bons. 

There  were  presents  for  everyone  with  no 
names  attached,  but  Molly  suspected  Professor 
Green  of  being  the  giver  of  the  pretty  things. 
Hers  was  a  volume  of  Rossetti's  poems  bound  in 
dark  blue  leather.  There  was  a  pretty  volume 
of  Tennyson's  poems  for  Otoyo ;  and  funny  gifts 
for  everybody,  with  delightful  jingles  attached 
which  the  Professor  read  very  gravely.  Otoyo 
almost  had  hysterics  over  her  toy,  which  was 
simply  a  small,  imitation  book  shelf  on  which 
was  a  row  of  the  works  of  Emerson  and  Car- 
lyle,  filled  with  "meat-sweets." 

Only  one  thing  happened  to  mar  that  evening's 
pleasure,  and  this  was  the  fault  of  the  little  Jap- 
anese herself,  to  her  undying  mortification  and 
sorrow.  When  the  party  was  at  its  very  height 
and  they  had  joined  hands  and  were  circling 
around  Santa  Claus,  who  was  singing  "The 


254      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 
Wearing   of   the   Green,"    Otoyo   unexpectedly 
broke  from  the  circle  and  with  a  funny,  squeaky 
little  scream  pointed  wildly  at  the  window. 

"Why,  child,  what  frightened  you?"  asked 
Miss  Grace  Green,  taking  the  girl's  hand  and 
looking  into  her  white,  scared  face. 

But  Otoyo  refused  to  explain  and  would  only 
say  over  and  over: 

"I  ask  pardon.  I  feel  so  sorrowfully  to  make 
this  beeg  disturbance.  Will  you  forgive  Otoyo  ?" 

"Of  course  we  forgive  you,  dear.  And  won't 
you  tell  us  what  you  saw?" 

"No,  no,  no.    It  was  notheeng." 

"We  ought  to  be  going,  at  any  rate,"  said  the 
Professor.  "Miss  Sen  isn't  accustomed  to  cele- 
brations like  this  when  old  people  turn  into  chil- 
dren and  children  turn  into  infants." 

"Am  I  an  infant?"  asked  Molly,  "or  a  child?" 

"I  am  afraid  you  still  belong  to  the  infant 
class,  Miss  Brown,"  replied  the  Professor  regret- 
fully. 

They  attributed  Otoyo's  fright  to  nervousness 


A   CHRISTMAS    SURPRISE  255 

caused  from  over-excitement,  and  a  few  minutes 
later  the  party  broke  up. 

It  was  one  o'clock  when  the  two  girls  finally 
climbed  upstairs  to  the  lonely  silent  third  floor. 
Molly  escorted  Otoyo  to  her  little  room  and 
turned  on  the  light. 

"Now,  little  one,"  she  said,  putting  her  hands 
on  the  Japanese  girl's  shoulders  and  searching 
her  face,  "what  was  it  you  saw  at  the  window  ?" 

Otoyo  closed  the  door  carefully  and,  tipping 
back  to  Molly's  side,  whispered: 

"The  greatly  beeg  black  eyes  of  Mees  Blount 
look  in  from  the  window  outside.  She  was  very 
angree.  Oh,  so  angree!  She  look  like  an  eevil 
spirit." 

"Then  she  didn't  go  to  New  York,  after  all! 
But  how  silly  not  to  have  joined  us.  What  a 
jealous,  strange  girl  she  is!" 

Molly  could  not  know,  however,  with  what  care 
and  secrecy  the  Greens  had  guarded  their  Christ- 
mas plans  from  Judith,  who  had  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  Professor  and  his  sister  at  the  general 
store  that  afternoon.  It  was  revealed  to  her 


256      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

that  her  cousins  would  much  rather  not  spend 
Christmas  with  her,  and  with  a  sullen,  stubborn 
determination  she  changed  her  mind  about  going 
to  New  York.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  the  sav- 
age in  her  untamed  nature,  and  that  night,  wan- 
dering unhappily  about  the  college  grounds  and 
hearing  sounds  of  laughter  and  singing  from 
Queen's,  she  pressed  her  face  against  the  win- 
dow and  the  gay  picture  she  saw  inflamed  her 
mind  with  rage  and  bitterness.  The  poor  girl 
did  resemble  an  evil  spirit  at  that  moment.  There 
was  hatred  in  her  heart  for  every  merrymaker 
in  the  room,  and  if  she  had  had  a  dynamite  bomb 
she  would  have  thrown  it  into  the  midst  of  the 
company  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 

When  Molly  went  to  her  own  room  after  her 
talk  with  Otoyo,  she  found  a  note  on  her  dress- 
ing table  which  did  not  worry  her  in  the  least 
considering  she  was  quite  innocent  of  the  charge. 

"You  told  me  a  falsehood  this  morning  with 
all  your  preaching.  I'd  rather  live  over  the  post- 
office  next  to  an  incessant  talker  who  does  laun- 
dry work  than  stay  in  the  same  house  with  a  per- 
son as  deceitful  and  untruthful  as  you.  J.  B." 


A    CHRISTMAS    SUEPEISE  25? 

"I'm  sorry  for  the  poor  soul,"  thought  Molly, 
as  she  contemplated  her  own  happy  image  in  the 
glass.  "She  is  like  a  traveller  who  deliberately 
takes  the  hardest  road  and  chooses  all  the  most 
disagreeable  places  to  walk  in.  If  she  would  just 
turn  around  and  go  the  other  way  she  would 
find  it  so  much  more  agreeable  for  herself  and 
all  concerned." 

Nevertheless,  Molly  felt  a  secret  relief  that 
Judith  had  chosen  to  stay  over  the  post-office. 

As  for  the  incorrigible  Judith,  she  did  leave  for 
New  York  early  next  morning  and  spent  the  rest 
of  the  holidays  with  her  mother  and  brother. 

Molly  saw  a  great  deal  of  the  Greens  for  the 
next  few  days.  They  had  tea  together  and  long 
walks,  and  once  the  Professor  read  aloud  to  his 
sister  and  the  little  girl  from  Kentucky  in  the 
privacy  of  his  own  study.  Miss  Green  and  her 
two  brothers  left  Wellington  on  New  Year's  Eve 
to  visit  some  cousins  in  the  next  county,  and  still 
Molly  was  not  lonely,  for  Lawrence  Upton  put 
in  a  great  deal  of  time  teaching  her  to  skate  and 
showing  Otoyo  and  her  the  country  around  Well- 
ington. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

BREAKING   THE   NEWS. 

Mrs.  Markham  had  received  due  notice  that 
Molly  Brown  of  Kentucky  would  be  obliged  to 
give  up  her  half  of  the  big  room  on  the  third 
floor  at  Queen's.  The  matron  was  very  sorry. 
Miss  Blount  also  was  moving  to  other  quarters, 
she  said;  but  she  was  too  accustomed  to  the 
transitory  tenants  of  Queen's  to  feel  any  real 
grief  over  sudden  departures. 

"It  only  remains  to  break  the  news  to  the 
others,"  thought  Molly,  but  she  mercifully  de- 
termined to  wait  until  after  the  mid-year  exam- 
inations. She  was  very  modest  regarding  her 
popularity,  but  she  was  pretty  sure  that  Judy's 
highly  emotional  temperament  might  work  itself 
into  a  fever  from  such  a  shock.  Remembering 
her  last  year's  experience  at  mid-years,  Molly 

258 


BREAKING    THE    NEWS  259 

guarded  her  secret  carefully  until  after  the  great 
crisis. 

At  last,  however,  the  fateful  moment  came. 
All  the  Queen's  circle  was  gathered  in  that  cen- 
ter of  hospitality  in  which  Molly  had  spent  so 
many  happy  months.  The  walls  never  looked  so 
serenely  blue  as  on  that  bright  Sunday  morning 
in  January,  nor  the  Japanese  scroll  more  allur- 
ing and  ornamental.  A  ray  of  sunlight  filtering 
through  the  white  dimity  curtains  cast  a  check- 
ered shadow  on  the  antique  rug.  Even  the  im- 
perfections of  the  old  room  were  dear  to  Molly's 
heart  now  that  she  must  leave  them  forever ;  the 
spot  in  the  ceiling  where  the  roof  had  leaked; 
the  worn  place  in  the  carpet  where  they  had  sat 
around  the  register,  and  the  mischievous  chair 
with  the  "game  leg"  which  precipitated  people 
to  the  floor  unexpectedly. 

Everybody  was  in  a  good  humor. 

"There  are  no  shipwrecks  on  the  strand  this 
year,"  Margaret  Wakefield  was  saying.  "Every- 
body's safe  in  harbor,  glory  be." 

"Even  me,"  put  in  Jessie  meekly.     "I  never 


260      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

thought  I'd  pull  through  in  that  awful  chemistry 
exam.,  and  I  was  morally  certain  I'd  flunk  in 
math.,  too.  I'm  so  afraid  of  Miss  Bowles  that 
my  hair  stands  on  end  whenever  she  speaks  to 


me." 


"She  is  rather  formidable,"  said  Edith  Wil- 
liams. "Why  is  it  that  Higher  Mathematics 
seems  to  freeze  a  body's  soul  and  turn  one  into 
an  early  Puritan?" 

"It  simply  trains  the  mind  to  be  exact,"  said 
Margaret,  who  always  defended  the  study  of 
mathematics  in  these  discussions.  "And  exact- 
ness means  sticking  to  facts,  and  that's  an  excel- 
lent quality  in  a  woman." 

"Meaning  to  say,"  broke  in  Katherine  Wil- 
liams, "that  all  un-mathematical  minds  are  un- 
truthful  " 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,"  cried  Margaret  hotly. 
"I  never  made  any  such  statement.  Did  I,  girls  ? 
I  said " 

There  was  a  bumping,  tumbling  noise  in  the 
hall.  Judy,  the  ever-curious,  opened  the  door. 

"The  trunks  are  here,  Miss,"  called  Mr.  Mur- 


BREAKING   THE   NEWS  261 

phy,  "and  sorry  we  are  to  lose  you,  the  old  woman 
and  I." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Murphy,"  answered  Molly. 

"Well,  for  the  love  of  Mike,"  cried  Judy,  turn- 
ing around  and  facing  Molly.  "What  are  you 
talking  about?" 

"I'm  not  talking  about  anything,"  answered 
Molly,  trying  to  keep  her  voice  steady. 

"Did  you  flunk  in  any  of  the  exams.,  Molly 
Brown  ?"  asked  Edith  in  a  whisper. 

"No,"  whispered  Molly  in  reply.  It  was  going 
to  be  even  worse  than  she  had  pictured  to  herself. 
"No,"  she  repeated.  A  pulse  throbbed  in  her 
throat  and  made  her  voice  sound  all  tremolo  like 
a  beginner's  in  singing.  "I  waited  to  tell  you  un- 
til after  mid-years.  I'm  not  going  very  far  away 
-only  to  O'Reilly's." 

Nance,  who  had  been  sitting  on  the  floor  with 
her  head  against  Molly's  knee,  began  softly  to 
weep.  It  was  certainly  one  of  the  most  desolat- 
ing experiences  of  Molly's  life. 

"O'Reilly's?"  they  cried  in  one  loud  protesting 
shriek. 


262       MOLLY  BKOWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

"Yes,  you  see,  we — we've  lost  some  money  and 
I  have  to  move,"  began  Molly  apologetically. 
"We  can  be  friends  just  the  same,  only  I  won't 
see  quite  as  much  of  you — it — it  will  be  harder 
on  me  than  on  you " 

It  would  have  been  gratifying  if  it  had  not 
been  so  sad,  this  circle  of  tear-stained  faces  and 
every  tear  shed  on  her  account." 

"We  simply  can't  do  without  you,  Molly,"  cried 
pretty,  affectionate  Jessie  Lynch.  "You  belong 
to  the  'body  corporate'  of  Queen's,  as  Margaret 
calls  it,  to  such  an  extent  that  if  you  leave  us, 
we'll — well,  we'll  just  fall  to  pieces,  that's  all." 

It  remained  for  Judy  Kean,  however,  that  crea- 
ture of  impulse  and  emotion,  to  prove  the  depths 
of  Her  affection.  When  she  rushed  blindly  from 
the  room,  her  friends  had  judged  that  she  wished 
to  be  alone.  Molly  had  once  been  a  witness  to 
the  awful  struggle  of  Judy  in  tears  and  she  knew 
that  weeping  was  not  a  surface  emotion  with  her. 

For  some  time,  Molly  went  on  quietly  explain- 
ing and  talking,  answering  their  questions  and 


BREAKING    THE    NEWS  263 

assuring  them  that  there  would  be  many  meet- 
ings at  O'Reilly's  of  Queen's  girls. 

"I  expect  you'll  have  to  move  into  Judith 
Blount's  singleton,  Nance,"  she  continued,  pat- 
ting her  friend's  cheek.  "That  is,  unless  you  can 
arrange  to  get  someone  to  share  this  one  with 
you." 

"Don't,  don't,"  sobbed  Nance.  "I  can't  bear 
it." 

Again  there  was  a  noise  outside  of  trunks  be- 
ing carried  upstairs  and  dumped  down  in  the 
hall. 

"There  go  poor  Judith's  trunks,"  observed 
Molly.  "It  will  be  harder  on  her  than  on  me 
because  she  takes  it  so  hard.  She's " 

Molly  broke  off  and  opened  the  door.  Judy's 
voice  was  heard  outside  giving  directions. 

"Just  pull  them  inside  for  me.  will  you,  Mr. 
Murphy?  I  know  they  fill  up  the  room,  but  I 
like  to  pack  all  at  once.  Will  you  see  about  the 
room  for  me  at  Mrs.  O'Reilly's  as  you  go  down 
to  the  station  ?  I'll  notify  the  registrar  and  Mrs. 
Markham.  And  Mr.  Murphy,  get  a  room  next 


264      MOLLY  BBOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

to  Miss  Brown's,  if  possible.  I  don't  care  whether 
it's  little  or  big." 

Nance  pushed  Molly  aside  and  rushed  into  the 
hall. 

"Why  hadn't  I  thought  of  that?"  she  cried. 
"Mr.  Murphy,  I  want  a  room  at  O'Reilly's.  Will 
you  engage  one  for  me  as  near  Miss  Brown's  as 
you  can,  and  before  you  go  bring  up  my  trunks, 
please?" 

"Now,  may  the  saints  defind  us,"  cried  the  dis- 
tracted Mr.  Murphy.  "It  looks  as  if  the  whole 
of  Queen's  was  movin'  down  to  the  village. 
You're  a  foine  lot  of  young  ladies,  Miss,  and  loy- 
alty ain't  so  usual  a  trait  in  a  woman,  either." 

"But  Nance,  but  Judy!"  protested  Molly.  "I 
can't — you  mustn't " 

"Don't  say  another  word,"  put  in  Judy  as  if 
she  were  scolding  a  bad  child.  "Nance  and  I 
would  rather  live  at  O'Reilly's  with  you  than  at 
Queen's  without  you,  that's  all.  We  mean  no 
reflection  on  the  others,  but  I  suppose  you  all  un- 
derstand. Edith  and  Katherine  wouldn't  be  sepa- 


BREAKING  THE  NEWS  265 

rated,  and  Jessie  and  Margaret  wouldn't.  Well, 
it's  the  same  with  us." 

"You'll  be  sorry,"  cried  Molly.  "Oh,  Judy,  I 
know  you'll  regret  it  the  very  first  day.  It  will 
be  very  different  from  Queen's.  We'll  have  to  get 
our  own  breakfasts,  and  take  meals  at  the  place 
next  door,  and  the  rooms  are  plain  with  ugly  wall 
paper,  and  there  isn't  any  white  woodwork,  and 
it's  a  big  empty  old  place.  It  used  to  be  a  small 
hotel,  you  know,  and  Mrs.  O'Reilly  is  trying  to 
sell  it.  The  only  recommendation  it  has,  is  that 
it's  very  cheap." 

"Why  didn't  you  go  over  to  the  post-office, 
Molly?"  asked  Margaret. 

"They  are  nicer  rooms,"  admitted  Molly, 
"but " 

"Judith  Blount  is  going  there,"  put  in  Judy. 

"That  wasn't  the  only  reason.  I  really  had 
arranged  about  O'Reilly's  before  I  knew  Judith 
Blount  was  going  to  leave  here." 

The  girls  looked  puzzled. 

"I  know,"  said  Edith.    "There's  a  young  per- 


266       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

son  with  a  soft  cooing  voice  at  the  post-office  who 
talks  a  mile  a  minute." 

"She's  a  very  nice  girl,"  broke  in  Molly,  "and 
works  so  hard.  I  really  like  her  ever  so  much. 
She's  very  clever,  but  I  have  a  sort  of  bewildered 
feeling  when  I  am  with  her." 

"I  know,"  said  Edith.  "It's  like  standing  on 
the  banks  of  a  rushing  river.  There's  no  way 
to  stop  it  and  there's  no  way  to  get  across.  You 
might  as  well  retreat  to  O'Reilly's  in  good  order." 

"O'Reilly's  it  is,"  cried  Judy  with  the  gallant 
air  of  one  about  to  go  forth  in  search  of  adven- 
ture. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Molly  protested.  Her 
friends  had  made  up  their  minds  and  nothing 
could  swerve  them.  By  good  luck,  the  checks  in 
payment  for  board  and  lodging  at  Queen's  for 
the  new  quarter  had  not  arrived,  and  the  two 
girls  were  free  to  move  if  they  chose. 

Together  the  three  friends,  more  closely  united 
than  ever  by  the  sacrifice  of  two  of  them,  walked 
down  into  the  village  that  afternoon  to  have  a 
look  at  O'Reilly's,  and  they  were  obliged  to  con- 


BREAKING    THE    NEWS  267 

fess  that  they  were  not  impressed  with  its  possi- 
bilities as  a  home.  But  it  was  a  dark,  cold  day 
— when  even  cheerful,  pretty  rooms  would  not 
have  looked  their  best. 

"These  two  back  rooms  will  be  rather  nice 
when  the  spring  comes,"  observed  Nance,  with  a 
forced  gaiety.  "They  look  over  the  garden,  you 
see.  Perhaps  Mrs.  O'Reilly  will  let  us  plant  some 
seeds  in  March." 

"It  won't  be  nice,"  Molly  cried.  "It  will  be 
miserable.  I've  known  it  all  along  myself,  but  I 
wouldn't  admit  it  until  now.  Girls,  I  implore 
you  to  stay  at  Queen's.  You  never  will  be  happy 
here,  and  I  shall  be  twice  as  unhappy." 

"Now,  don't  say  another  word,  Molly  Brown," 
said  Judy.  "We're  going  to  follow  you  if  it's  to 
the  Inferno." 

"Think  how  you'll  miss  the  others." 

"Think  how  we'd  miss  you." 

"We'd  better  go  back  and  pack  our  things, 
then,"  sighed  Molly,  feeling  very  much  like  a  cul- 
prit who  had  drawn  her  friends  into  mischief. 

That  night  they  packed  their  belongings,  and 


268  MOLLY  BBOWN'S  SOPHOMOBE  DAYS 
not  once  by  the  blink  of  an  eyelash  did  Judy  or 
Nance  show  what  they  felt  about  leaving  Queen's 
forever.  At  last  with  walls  cleared  of  pictures, 
curtains  neatly  folded,  books  piled  into  boxes  and 
rugs  rolled  up,  the  three  girls  went  to  bed,  worn 
out  with  the  day's  labors  and  emotions. 

In  the  night,  Nance,  shivering,  crawled  into 
Molly's  bed  and  brought  all  her  covering  with 
her.  Under  a  double  layer  of  comforts  they  snug- 
gled while  the  thermometer  went  down,  down 
until  it  reached  ten  degrees  below  zero. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
HOW  O'REILLY'S  BECAME  QUEEN'S. 

Molly  often  looked  back  on  that  famous  bitter 
Monday  as  the  most  exciting  day  of  her  entire 
life.  Surprises  began  in  the  morning  when  they 
learned  for  a  fact  that  it  was  ten  degrees  below 
zero.  Barometers  in  a  house  always  make  the 
weather  seem  ten  times  worse.  In  the  night  the 
water  pipes  had  burst  and  flooded  the  kitchen 
floor,  which  by  morning  was  covered  with  a  layer 
of  ice.  On  this,  the  unfortunate  Mrs.  Murphy, 
entering  unawares,  slipped  and  sprained  her 
ankle.  The  gas  was  frozen,  and  neither  the  gas 
nor  the  coal  range  could  be  used  that  eventful 
morning.  The  girls  prepared  their  own  break- 
fasts on  chafing  dishes,  and  wrapped  in  blankets 
they  shivered  over  the  registers,  up  which  rose 
a  thin  stream  of  heat  that  made  but  a  feeble 
impression  on  the  freezing  atmosphere. 

269 


270      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"We  do  look  something  like  a  mass  meeting-  of 
Siberian  exiles,"  observed  Judy  grimly,  looking 
about  her  in  Chapel  a  little  later. 

Miss  Walker  herself  wore  a  long  fur  coat  and 
a  pair  of  arctic  shoes  and  in  the  assembled  com- 
pany of  students  there  appeared  every  variety  of 
winter  covering  known  to  the  civilized  world, 
apparently:  ulsters,  golf  capes,  fur  coats, 
sweaters,  steamer  rugs  and  shawls. 

Molly  was  numb  with  cold ;  fur  coats  were  the 
only  garments  warm  enough  that  day,  and  a  blue 
sweater  under  a  gray  cloth  jacket  was  as  nothing 
against  the  frigid  atmosphere. 

"Bed's  the  only  comfortable  place  to  be  in," 
she  whispered  to  Judy,  "and  here  we've  got 
classes  till  twelve  thirty  and  moving  in  the  after- 
noon !  The  trunks  are  going  ibis  morning.  Oh, 
heavens,  how  I  do  dread  it !" 

"At  least  O'Reilly's  couldn't  be  any  colder  than 
Queen's  is  at  present,"  replied  Judy,  "and  there's 
a  grate  in  the  room  I  am  to  have.  We'll  have  a 
big  coal  fire  and  cheer  things  up  considerably." 

Everything  was  done  on  the  run  that  day. 


HOW  O'REILLY'S  BECAME  QUEEN'S      271 

Groups  of  girls  could  be  seen  tearing  from  one 
building  to  another.  They  dashed  through  cor- 
ridors like  wild  ponies  and  rushed  up  and  down 
stairs  as  if  the  foul  fiends  were  chasing  them. 

The  weather  was  like  a  famous  invalid  rapidly 
sinking.  They  frequently  took  his  temperature 
and  cried  to  one  another: 

"It's  gone  down  two  degrees." 

"The  bulletin  says  it  will  be  fifteen  by  night." 

"Oh,"  groaned  Molly,  thinking  of  her  friends 
at  that  dismal  O'Reilly's. 

Having  half  an  hour  to  spare  between  classes, 
she  went  to  the  library  where  she  met  Nance. 

"There  are  some  letters  for  you,  Molly.  They 
came  by  the  late  mail.  I  saw  them  in  the  hall," 
Nance  informed  her. 

But  Molly  was  not  deeply  interested  in  letters 
that  morning. 

"Never  mind  mail,"  she  said.  "I  can  only  think 
of  two  things.  How  cold  I  am  this  minute,  and 
how  uncomfortable  you  and  Judy  are  going  to 
be  for  my  sake." 

"Don't  think  about  it,  Molly,  dear,"  said  Nance. 


272      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

"We'll  soon  get  adjusted  at  O'Reilly's  with  you, 
and  we  never  would  at  Queen's  without  you." 

Molly  could  not  find  her  mail  when  she  re- 
turned to  Queen's  for  lunch,  which  had  been  pre- 
pared with  much  difficulty  on  several  chafing 
dishes  and  a  small  charcoal  brazier  by  Mrs. 
Markham  and  the  maid.  Nobody  seemed  to 
know  anything  about  letters  in  the  upset  and 
half-frozen  household,  until  it  was  finally  discov- 
ered that  Mr.  Murphy  had  taken  Molly's  mail 
down  to  O'Reilly's  when  he  had  moved  the  trunks. 

Having  disposed  of  indifferently  warmed 
canned  soup  and  creamed  boned  chicken  that  was 
chilled  to  its  heart,  the  three  friends  went  down 
to  the  village.  They  looked  at  the  rooms;  they 
stood  gazing  pensively  at  their  trunks ;  it  seemed 
too  cold  to  make  the  physical  effort  to  unpack 
their  clothes.  Again  the  fugitive  letters  had  es- 
caped Molly.  Mr.  Murphy,  finding  she  was  not 
to  come  down  until  afternoon  had  kept  them  in 
his  pocket  and  was  at  that  moment  at  the  station 
awaiting  the  three  fifteen  train. 

"It's  too  cold  to  follow  him,"  said  Molly,  never 


HOW  O'REILLY'S  BECAME  QUEEN'S       273 

dreaming  that  Mr.  Murphy  was  carrying  about 
with  him  a  letter  which  was  to  change  the  whole 
tenor  of  her  life.  "I'm  so  homesick,"  she  ex- 
claimed, "let's  go  back  to  Queen's  for  awhile." 

And  back  they  hastened.  Somehow  they  didn't 
know  what  to  do  with  themselves  in  their  new 
quarters.  It  seemed  unnatural  to  sit  down  and 
chat  in  those  strange  rooms. 

As  they  neared  the  avenue  they  noticed  groups 
of  girls  ahead  of  them,  all  running.  The  three 
friends  began  to  run,  too,  beating  their  hands 
together  to  stir  up  the  circulation.  A  bell  was 
ringing  violently.  Its  clang  in  the  frosty  air 
sounded  harsh  and  unnatural. 

"That's  the  fire  bell,"  cried  Judy. 

They  dashed  into  the  avenue.  The  campus  was 
alive  with  students  all  running  in  the  same  di- 
rection. 

"It's  Queen's,"  shrieked  Nance.  "Queen's  is 
burning!" 

Smoke  was  pouring  from  every  window  in  the 
old  brown  house.  The  lawn  in  front  was  filled 
with  a  jumbled  mass  of  furniture  and  clothes. 


274      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

Margaret  and  Jessie  appeared  on  the  porch  drag- 
ging a  great  bundle  of  their  belongings  tied  up 
in  a  bedspread.  Otoyo  rushed  from  the  house, 
her  arms  filled  with  things.  Mrs.  Murphy,  seated 
in  a  big  chair  on  the  campus,  was  rocking  back 
and  forth  and  moaning : 

"Queen's  is  gone.  Nothing  can  save  her.  The 
pipes  is  froze." 

Out  of  the  front  door  Edith  Williams  now 
emerged,  quite  calmly,  with  an  armload  of  books. 

"Edith,"  cried  Katherine,  who  had  run  at  full 
speed  all  the  way  from  the  Quadrangle,  "why 
didn't  you  bring  our  clothes  ?" 

For  an  answer  her  sister  pointed  at  a  pile  of 
things  on  the  ground. 

"I  made  two  trips,"  she  replied. 

All  this  the  girls  heard  as  in  a  dream  as  they 
stood  in  a  shivering  row  on  the  campus.  Old 
brown  Queen's  was  about  to  be  reduced  to  ashes 
and  cinders !  No  need  to  summon  the  fire  brigade 
or  call  in  the  volunteer  fire  department  from  the 
village,  although  this  organization  presently 
came  dashing  up  with  a  small  engine.  Flames 


HOW  O'REILLY'S  BECAME  QUEEN'S  275 
were  already  licking  their  way  hungrily  along 
the  lower  story  of  the  house,  and  the  slight 
stream  of  water  from  the  engine  hose  only 
seemed  to  rouse  them  to  greater  fury. 

"I'm  only  thankful  it  didn't  happen  at  night," 
they  heard  Miss  Walker  cry  as  she  pushed  her 
way  through  the  throng  of  girls.  "And  you,  my 
dear  child,"  she  continued,  laying  a  hand  on 
Molly's'  shoulder,  "did  you  save  your  things?" 

Molly  started  from  her  lethargy.  She  was  so 
cold  and  unhappy,  she  had  forgotten  all  about  her 
belongings. 

"Oh,  yes,  Miss  Walker/'  she  answered.  "You 
see,  we  moved  this  morning.  Wasn't  it  fortu- 
nate?" 

"We?"  repeated  Miss  Walker. 

"Yes.  My  two  friends,  Miss  Oldham  and  Miss 
Kean,  moved,  too.  They — well,  they  wouldn't 
stay  at  Queen's  without  me." 

"Is  it  possible?"  said  the  President.  "And 
their  trunks  had  gone  down  to  the  village  ?  Dear, 
dear,  what  a  remarkably  providential  thing.  And 
what  devoted  friends  you  seem  to  make,  Miss 


276      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

Brown/'  she  added,  patting  Molly's  hand  and 
then  turning  away  to  speak  to  Professor  Green, 
who  had  hurried  up. 

"Is  everybody  safe?"  he  asked  breathlessly. 

"Yes,  yes,  Professor,  everybody's  safe  and 
everything  has  been  done  that  could  be  done.  I 
am  afraid  some  of  the  girls  have  lost  a  good 
many  things,  but  you  will  be  glad  to  know  that 
three  of  them  had  only  this  morning  sent  their 
trunks  to  rooms  in  the  village — Miss  Brown  and 
her  two  friends." 

"Miss  Brown  moving  to  the  village?" 

Molly  looked  up  and  caught  the  Professor's 
glance  turned  searchingly  on  her. 

"I  am  going  to  live  at  O'Reilly's,"  she  said. 

"And  you  are  safe  and  your  things  are  safe?" 
he  asked  her,  frowning  so  sternly  that  she  felt 
she  must  have  displeased  him  somehow.  "I'm 
glad,  very  glad,"  he  added,  turning  abruptly 
away.  "Is  there  nothing  I  can  do,  Miss 
Walker?" 

For  answer  she  pointed  to  the  volunteers  from 
the  village  who  had  leaped  away  from  the  house. 


HOW  O'REILLY'S  BECAME  QUEEN'S      277 

The  crowd  swerved  back.  There  was  a  crackling 
sound,  a  crash ;  a  great  wave  of  heat  swept  across 
the  campus  and  the  front  wall  of  Queen's  fell  in. 
They  had  one  fleeting  view  of  the  familiar  rooms, 
and  then  a  cloud  of  ashes  and  smoke  choked  the 
picture.  It  was  not  long  before  only  the  rear 
wall  of  old  brown  Queen's  was  left  standing. 

"Dust  to  dust  and  ashes  to  ashes,"  said  Edith 
Williams,  solemnly. 

It  did  seem  very  much  like  a  funeral  to  the 
crowd  of  Queen's  girls  who  stood  in  a  shivering, 
loyal  row  to  the  end. 

"So  much  for  Queen's,"  said  Margaret  Wake- 
field.  "She's  dead  and  now  what's  to  be  done?" 

It  was  decided  that  the  girls  should  go  to 
O'Reilly's  for  the  time  being,  all  other  available 
quarters  being  about  filled.  If  they  preferred 
the  post-office  they  could  stay  there;  but  they  pre- 
ferred O'Reilly's. 

And  thither,  also,  went  Mrs.  Markham  and  the 
Murphys  and  the  maids  from  Queen's.  In  a  few 
short  hours,  it  would  seem,  Queen's  had  been 
changed  to  O'Reilly's,  or  O'Reilly's  to  Queen's. 


278      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

It  turned  out,  too,  that  Mrs.  O'Reilly  was  nearly 
related  to  Mr.  Murphy,  and  all  things,  therefore, 
worked  together  in  harmony, 

O'Reilly's  seemed  a  place  of  warmth  and  com- 
fort to  the  half-frozen  girls  who  clustered  around 
the  big  fire  in  Judy's  room  at  five  o'clock  that 
afternoon,  scalding  their  tongues  with  hot  tea 
and  coffee  while  they  discussed  their  plans  for  the 
future. 

"Mrs.  Markham  told  me"  announced  Mar- 
garet, a  recognized  authority  on  all  subjects, 
political,  domestic,  financial  and  literary,  "that 
it  would  probably  be  arranged  to  make  O'Reilly's 
into  a  college  house  for  the  rest  of  the  winter. 
She  said  they  might  even  do  over  the  rooms.  It 
would  be  a  smaller  household  than  Queen's,  of 
course — only  eight  or  nine — but  it  would  be 
rather  cosy  and — there  would  be  no  breaking  up 
of  old  ties.  If  this  isn't  approved,"  she  continued, 
exactly  as  if  she  were  addressing  a  class  meeting, 
"we  shall  have  to  scatter.  There's  another  apart- 
ment in  the  Quadrangle  and  there  are  a  few  sin- 
gletons left  in  some  of  the  campus  houses.  Now, 


HOW  O'KEILLY'S  BECAME  QUEEN'S       279 

girls," — her  voice  took  on  an  oratorical  ring — 
"of  course,  I  know  that  we  are  nearly  fifteen  min- 
utes' walk  by  the  short  cut  from  the  college  and 
that  we  may  not  be  in  things  as  much;  but  the 
best  part  of  college  we  have  here  at  O'Reilly's. 
And  that's  ourselves.  I  move  that  we  change 
O'Reilly's  into  Queen's  and  make  the  best  of  it 
for  the  rest  of  the  winter." 

"Hurrah!  I  second  the  motion,"  cried  Kath- 
erine  Williams. 

"All  those  in  favor  of  this  motion  will  please 
say  'aye',"  said  the  President. 

"Aye,"  burst  from  the  throats  of  the  eight 
friends,  Otoyo's  shrill  high  note  sounding  with 
the  others. 

"Hurrah  for  our  President,"  cried  Molly, 
dancing  around  the  room  in  an  excess  of  happi- 
ness. 

"Unitus  et  concordia,"  said  Edith  gravely. 

"It's  really  Molly  that's  transformed  O'Reilly's 
into  Queen's,"  continued  Margaret,  who  had  a 
generous,  big  way  of  saying  things  when  she 
chose.  "It's  Molly  who  has  kept  us  all  together. 


280      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

With  Molly  and  Nance  and  Judy  gone,  Queen's 
would  have  been  a  different  place." 

"It  would!  It  would!"  they  cried.  "Three 
cheers  for  Molly  Brown!" 

"  'Here's  to  Molly  Brown,  drink  her  down ! 
Here's  to  dear  old  Queen's,  drink  her  down.' ' 

Through  the  din  of  singing  and  cheering,  there 
came  a  loud  knocking  at  the  door  and  a  voice 
cried : 

"Open  in  the  name  of  the  law !" 

Then  the  door  was  thrust  open  and  Sallie 
Marks  marched  in  flourishing  a  hot-water  bag 
in  one  hand  and  a  thermos  bottle  in  the  other. 

"Well,"  she  exclaimed,  "you're  the  most  cheer- 
ful lot  of  refugees  I  ever  saw.  I  came  down  ex- 
pecting to  find  eight  frozen  corpses  stretched  on 
the  shining  strand,  and  here  you  are  singing 
hilarious  songs  and  yelling  like  a  lot  of  Comanche 
Indians." 

"What  are  you  bringing  us,  Sallie?"  demanded 
Judy. 


HOW  O'REILLY'S  BECAME  QUEEN'S      281 

"I'm  bringing  you  myself,"  said  Sallie.  "I've 
arranged  to  come  down  here.  They  shelved  me 
with  a  lot  of  freshies  at  Martin's  and  I  said  I'd 
rather  be  at  O'Reilly's  with  the  Old  Guard.  So 
Mr.  Murphy  brought  me  down  with  two  sheet- 
loads  of  my  things  and  some  beds  from  the  hos- 
pital, and  here  I  am." 

"Hurrah !"  they  cried  again,  joining  hands  and 
dancing  in  a  circle  around  Sallie. 

"  'Here's  to  good  old  Sallie,  drink  her  down, 
Drink  her  down,  drink  her  down,  drink  her 
down!'" 

After  this  wild  outburst  of  joy  over  the  return 
of  another  wanderer  to  the  fold,  Sallie  began  to 
remove  her  outer  wrappings. 

"I  feel  like  an  Egyptian  mummy,"  she  re- 
marked as  she  skinned  off  two  long  coats  and  un- 
wound several  scarfs. 

"You  look  like  a  pouter  pigeon,"  said  Judy, 
"what  have  you  got  stuffed  in  there?" 

"Mail,"     said     Sallie,     unbuttoning     another 


282      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

jacket,  "mail  for  Queen's.  Mr.  Murphy  gave  it 
to  me  when  he  came  to  get  my  things.  And,  by 
the  way/'  she  added,  "I  saved  my  rocking  chair 
and  sat  in  it  as  I  drove  down  to  the  village. 
Wasn't  it  beautiful  ?  I  suppose  I'll  be  lampooned 
now  as  'Sallie,  the  emigrant.'  But  it  was  too 
cold  to  care  much.  I  was  only  thankful  I  had 
taken  the  precaution  to  fill  the  hot-water  bag  and 
the  thermos  bottle  before  I  started  on  the  drive." 


CHAPTER  XX. 
THE  TURN  OF  THE 


Sallie  Marks  had,  indeed,  received  a  royal  wel- 
come from  her  friends.  They  were  as  glad  to 
see  her  as  if  she  had  just  returned  from  a  long 
voyage.  Now  they  poked  the  fire  and  made  fresh 
tea  and  petted  and  caressed  her  until  her  pale, 
near-sighted  eyes  were  quite  watery  and  she  was 
obliged  to  wipe  the  moisture  from  her  glasses. 

"We'll  make  out  the  winter  here,  girls,"  she 
assured  them.  "It  may  take  a  week  to  get  the 
house  in  order,  but  we  can  put  up  with  a  little 
discomfort  to  have  O'Reilly's  to  ourselves.  If 
they  would  only  strip  off  this  bilious  paper  and 
lay  a  few  mattings  !  The  plumbing  is  better  than 
it  was  at  Queen's,  and  the  heating  arrangements, 
too." 

The  room  was  really  very  comfortable  what 
283 


284      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOrHOMOEE  DAYS 

with  the  fire  in  the  grate  and  the  heat  pouring  up 
the  register. 

"It  was  a  defective  flue  that  made  old  Queen's 
go  under,"  observed  Katherine  sadly,  as  if  she 
were  speaking  of  a  dear  friend  who  had  lately 
passed  into  another  life.  "I  am  afraid  her  heat- 
ing apparatus  was  a  little  second  class." 

"Speak  no  evil  of  the  dead,"  admonished  her 
sister  Edith. 

"Requiescat  in  pace,"  said  Sallie  in  a  solemn 
voice. 

"La  reine  est  morte;  vive  la  reine,"  said  Mar- 
garet. 

"After  all,  we  are  really  'Queen's,'  "  said  Judy, 
"so  let's  be  as  happy  as  we  can.  Where  are  those 
letters,  Sallie?" 

Sallie  unbuttoned  the  last  layer  of  sweater  and 
drew  out  a  pile  of  mail  which  she  distributed, 
calling  the  name  of  each  girl. 

"Molly  Brown,"  she  called,  handing  Molly  a 
letter  from  Kentucky. 

"Miss  Sen,  a  letter  from  the  Land  of  the  Ris- 
ing Sun.  I  hope  it  will  rise  warmer  there  than  it 


THE    TURN    OF   THE    WHEEL  285 

set  here  this  evening.  Miss  Jessie  Lynch,  a  letter 
addressed  in  the  handwriting  of  a  male.  Ahem ! 
Miss  Lynch,  another  letter  in  the  same  handwrit- 
ing of  presumably  the  same  male." 

Much  laughter  among  those  not  already  ab- 
sorbed in  letters. 

"Miss  Margaret  Wakefield,  an  official  docu- 
ment from  the  capital  of  these  United  States  of 
America.  Miss  Julia  S.  Kean,  a  parental  epistle 
which  no  doubt  contains  other  things.  Miss 
Molly  Brown,  who  appears  to  be  secretly  pur- 
chasing a  farm." 

Sallie  handed  Molly  a  long  envelope,  while  the 
others  snatched  their  letters  and  turned  away. 
Only  Nance  had  received  no  mail  that  day;  yet, 
more  than  any  girl  there,  she  enjoyed  correspond- 
ing and  sent  off  weekly  voluminous  letters  to  her 
father,  her  only  correspondent  except  Andy  Mc- 
Lean, who  was  not  yet  considered  strong  enough 
to  write  letters. 

It  was  with  something  very  near  to  envy  that 
she  watched  the  faces  of  her  friends  as  they 


286      MOLLY  BKOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

waded  through  long  family  letters  with  an  oc- 
casional laugh  or  comment: 

"It's  been  ten  below  at  home." 

"Father  forgot  to  put  in  my  check.  He's  get- 
ting very  thoughtless." 

"My  wandering  parents  are  going  to  Florida. 
They  can't  stand  the  cold  in  New  York." 

"Here's  a  state  of  things,"  exclaimed  Edith, 
"another  book  bill  for  books  that  were  burned. 
Isn't  that  the  limit?" 

"Yes,  and  you'll  borrow  from  me  again/'  said 
Katherine.  "And  I  shall  refuse  to  lend  you  an- 
other cent.  You  are  getting  entirely  too  crazy 
about  buying  books." 

Nobody  took  any  notice  of  this  sisterly  dia- 
logue which  went  on  continuously  and  never  had 
any  real  meaning,  because  in  the  end  Katherine 
always  paid  her  sister's  debts. 

Nance's  gaze  shifted  to  Molly,  who  might  have 
been  turned  into  a  graven  image,  so  still  was  she 
sitting.  She  had  not  opened  the  letter  from 
home,  but  the  long  envelope  from  the  real  estate 
company  lay  at  her  feet.  In  one  hand  she  held 


THE    TUEN    OF   THE    WHEEL  287 

a  typewritten  letter  and  in  the  other  a  long  blue 
slip  of  paper  which,  beyond  a  doubt,  was  a  check. 
Picking  up  the  envelope,  Molly  gave  a  covert 
glance  around  the  absorbed  circle  and  slipped  the 
check  inside.  Then  she  noticed  Nance  gazing 
at  her  curiously.  She  smiled,  and  then  began  to 
laugh  so  joyously  that  everybody  stopped  read- 
ing and  regarded  her  almost  anxiously.  There 
was  a  peculiar  ring  of  excitement  in  her  voice. 

"Molly,  hasn't  something  awfully  nice  hap- 
pened to  you  ?"  asked  Nance. 

"Why,  yes,"  she  answered,  "to  tell  the  truth, 
there  has." 

"What  is  it?  What  is  it?"  cried  the  chorus  of 
voices. 

Molly  hesitated  and  blushed,  and  laughed 
again. 

"I  don't  think  you  would  believe  it  if  I  were 
to  tell  you,"  she  said.  "It's  too  absurd.  I  can 
hardly  believe  it  myself,  even  after  reading  the 
letter  and  seeing  the — the— 

"The  what,  Molly?"  demanded  Judy,  beside 
herself  with  curiosity. 


288       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

Molly  laughed  again. 

"I'm  so  happy,"  she  cried.  "It's  made  me 
warm  all  over.  The  temperature  has  risen  ten 
degrees." 

"Molly  Brown,  will  you  explain  yourself? 
Can't  you  see  we  are  palpitating  to  know  what 
it  is?"  cried  Judy. 

"I've  won  a  prize,"  exclaimed  Molly.  "I've 
won  a  prize.  Can't  you  see  what  it  means  to  me? 
I  needed  the  money  and  it  came.  A  perfect  wind- 
fall. Oh,  isn't  this  world  a  delightful  place?  I 
don't  mind  the  cold  weather  and  O'Reilly's.  I'm 
so  happy.  I  prayed  for  rain  and  carried  my  um- 
brella. Oh,  I'm  so  happy,  happy,  happy !" 

"Has  the  child  gone  daffy?"  said  Sallie  Marks, 
while  Judy  seized  the  envelope  and  drew  out  a 
check  for  two  hundred  dollars  made  out  in  the 
name  of  "Mary  C.  W.  Brown."  Then  she  opened 
the  letter  and  read  aloud: 

"  'Dear  Madam : 

It  gives  us  much  pleasure  to  inform  you  that 
among  several  hundred  contestants  you  have  won 
the  prize  of  $200,  offered  by  this  company  for  the 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    WHEEL  289 

best  advertisement  in  prose  or  verse  for  one  of 
our  mountain  chalets.  Your  poem  will  occupy 
the  first  page  in  an  elaborate  booklet  now  under 
way  and  we  hope  will  attract  many  customers. 
We  offer  you  our  congratulations  and  good 
wishes  for  other  literary  successes  and  enclose 
the  check  herewith. 

Very  cordially  yours,   etc.,  etc.' ' 

"Am  I  sleeping  or  waking?"  cried  Molly. 
"This,  at  the  end  of  this  awful  day !  Isn't  it  won- 
derful?" 

The  reunited  friends  made  so  much  noise  over 
this  triumph  of  their  favorite  that  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham,  superintending  the  setting  up  of  beds  and 
arranging  of  rooms  with  Mrs.  O'Reilly,  smilingly 
observed : 

"Dear  me,  they  don't  seem  to  take  their  mis- 
fortune much  to  heart,  do  they?" 

"They're  that  glad  to  get  in  out  of  the  cold, 
ma'am,  and  warm  themselves  with  some  tea.  It's 
thawed  them  out,  I  expect,  the  poor  young  things. 
They  was  half  froze  when  they  come  an  hour 

ago." 

"But  where's  the  poem,  Molly,"  cried  Judy, 


290      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

when  the  racket  had  subsided.  "We  must  see 
the  poem." 

"It's  locked  in  my  trunk." 

"Get  it  out,  get  it  out,"  they  ordered,  and  she 
had  no  peace  until  she  unlocked  the  trunk  and, 
rummaging  in  her  portfolio,  found  the  original 
manuscript  of  "The  Chalet  of  the  West  Wind." 

"I  can't  see  why  it  won  the  prize,"  she  said. 
"I  hadn't  even  the  shadow  of  a  hope  when  I  sent 
it.  It's  not  a  bit  like  an  ad." 

"It  was  certainly  what  they  wanted,"  said  Sal- 
lie.  "They  didn't  have  to  give  you  the  prize,  see- 
ing that  they  had  several  hundred  to  choose  from. 
But  read  it,  because  I'm  in  a  fever  of  curiosity 
to  hear  it." 

In  the  meantime,  Judy  had  lit  the  gas,  and  tak- 
ing Molly  by  the  shoulders,  pushed  her  into  a 
chair  under  the  light. 

"I'm  most  awfully  embarrassed,"  announced 
Molly,  "but  here  goes,"  and  she  read  the  follow- 
ing verses: 


THE   TURN   OF   THE   WHEEL  291 

The  Chalet  of  the  West  Wind. 

"Wind  of  the  West,  Wind  of  the  West, 
Breathe  on  my  little  chalet. 
Blow  over  summer  fields, 
Bring  all  their  perfume  yields, 
Lily  and  clover  and  hay. 

"Bring  all  the  joys  of  spring, 
Soft-kissing  zephyrs  bring, 
Peace  of  the  mountains  and  hills, 
Waken  the  columbine, 
Stir  the  sweet  breath  of  pine, 
Hasten  the  late  daffodils. 

"Gentle  Wind  from  the  Isles  of  the  Blest, 
Breathe  on  my  little  chalet, 
Fill  it  with  music  and  laughter  and  rest; 
Fill  it  with  love  and  with  dreams  that  are  best ; 
Breathe  on  it  softly,  sweet  Wind  of  the  West, 
Breathe  on  my  little  chalet." 

There  was  certainly  nothing  very  remarkable 
about  the  little  song,  and  yet  it  had  caught  the 


292      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

eye  of  the  real  estate  men  as  having  a  certain 
quality  which  would  attract  people  to  that  sunny 
mountainside  whereon  were  perched  the  quaint 
Swiss  chalets  they  desired  to  sell.  There  was  a 
subtle  suggestion  to  the  buyer  that  he  might  find 
rest  and  happiness  in  this  peaceful  home.  The 
piney  air,  the  flowers  and  the  sunshine  had  all 
been  poetically  but  quite  truthfully  described. 
With  a  picture  of  the  "Chalet  of  the  West  Wind" 
on  the  opposite  p^ge,  people  of  discerning  tastes, 
looking  for  summer  homes,  would  surely  be  at- 
tracted. 

"How  ever  did  you  happen  to  write  it,  Molly  ?" 
they  asked  her  after  re-reading  the  poem  and  ad- 
miring it  with  friendly  loyalty.  "Have  you  ever 
been  to  the  mountains?" 

"No,"  she  answered,  "I  actually  never  have. 
But  something  in  me  that  wasn't  me  wrote  the 
verses.  They  just  seemed  to  come,  first  the  meter 
and  then,  gradually,  the  lines.  I  can't  explain  it. 
I  had  some  bad  news  and  was  afraid  I  would 
have  to  leave  college  and  then  the  poem  came. 
That  was  all.  Two  hundred  dollars,"  she  added, 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  WHEEL  293 

looking  at  the  check.  "It  seems  too  good  to  be 
true.  What  must  I  do  with  it?" 

"Put  it  in  the  Wellington  Bank  to-morrow 
morning,"  answered  Margaret  promptly. 

Between  them,  Mrs.  Markham  and  Mrs. 
O'Reilly  prepared  a  very  good  dinner  for  the 
girls  that  night,  and  instead  of  being  a  funeral 
feast  it  was  changed  into  a  jolly  banquet.  The 
old  Queen's  dinner  table  was  restored  and  there 
was  as  much  gay,  humorous  conversation  as 
there  ever  had  been  in  the  brown  shingled  house 
now  reduced  to  a  heap  of  ashes. 

Paperhangers  and  painters  did  go  into  the 
new  college  house  on  the  following  Monday 
morning  and  in  less  than  ten  days  the  dingy 
rooms  were  transformed  by  white  woodwork  and 
light  paper.  If  the  Queen's  girls  felt  a  little  out 
of  it  at  first,  not  being  on  the  campus,  they  were 
too  proud  to  admit  it,  and  nobody  ever  heard  a 
complaint  from  them.  They  had  a  great  many 
visitors  at  O'Reilly's.  Crowds  of  their  friends 
came  down  to  drink  tea  or  spend  the  evening. 


294       MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

The  President  herself  called  one  morning  and 
had  a  look  at  the  place. 

In  the  meantime  Molly  had  called  at  Miss 
Walker's  office  and  informed  her  that  she  had 
come  into  a  little  money  unexpectedly  and,  with 
the  money  she  was  earning,  she  would  be  able  to 
pay  her  own  board  at  O'Reilly's  for  the  rest  of 
the  winter.  It  was  only  by  chance  that  Miss 
Walker  learned  how  Molly  had  earned  this  sum 
of  money. 

"Think  of  the  child's  modesty  in  keeping  the 
secret  from  me,"  she  said  to  Miss  Pomeroy. 
"Have  you  seen  the  poem  that  won  the  prize,  by 
the  way?" 

"Why,  yes,"  answered  that  critical  individual. 
"It's  a  sweet  little  thing  and  I  suppose  struck 
the  exact  note  they  wanted,  but  I  assure  you  it's 
nothing  wonderful." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

IN   THE   GARDEN. 

"Who  would  have  thought  this  place  could  ever 
blossom  like  the  rose,"  exclaimed  Margaret 
Wakefield,  settling  comfortably  in  a  long  steamer 
chair  and  looking  about  her  with  an  expression 
of  extreme  contentment. 

"It's  the  early  summer  that  did  it,"  remarked 
Judy  Kean.  "It  came  to  console  us  after  that 
brutal  winter." 

"It's  Mrs.  O'Reilly's  labors  chiefly,"  put  in 
Katherine  Williams.  "She  told  me  that  this  gar- 
den had  been  the  comfort  of  her  life." 

"It's  the  comfort  of  mine,"  said  Margaret 
lazily.  "Watching  you  girls  there  hoeing  and 
raking  and  pulling  up  weeds  reminds  me  of  a 
scene  from  the  opera  of  'The  Juggler  of  Notre 
Dame,' — the  monks  in  the  cloister  working 

among  their  flowers." 

295 


296      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

Molly  paused  in  her  operation  of  the  lawn 
mower. 

"It  is  a  peaceful  occupation,"  she  said.  "It's 
the  nicest  thing  that  ever  happened  to  us,  this 
garden,  because  it  was  such  a  surprise.  I  never 
suspected  it  was  anything  but  a  desert  until  one 
day  I  looked  down  and  saw  Mrs.  O'Reilly  digging 
up  the  earth  around  some  little  green  points  stick- 
ing out  of  the  ground,  and  then  it  only  seemed 
a  few  days  before  the  points  were  daffodils  and 
everything  had  burst  into  bloom  at  once.  This 
apple  tree  was  like  a  bride's  bouquet." 

"That's  stretching  your  imagination  a  bit," 
interrupted  Judy,  reclining  at  full  length  on  a 
steamer  rug  on  the  ground.  "Think  of  the  gi- 
gantic bride  who  could  carry  an  apple  tree  for  a 
bouquet." 

"Get  up  from  there  and  go  to  work,"  cried 
Molly,  poking  her  friend  in  the  side  with  her  foot. 
"Here's  company  coming  this  afternoon,  and  you 
at  your  ease  on  the  ground !" 

"I  don't  notice  that  Margaret  W.  is  bestirring 
herself,"  answered  Judy. 


IN   THE    GARDEN  297 

"A  President  never  should  work,"  answered 
Molly.  "It's  her  office  to  look  on  and  direct." 

Judy  pulled  herself  lazily  from  the  ground. 

"I'll  be  official  lemon  squeezer,  then,"  she  said. 
"I  will  not  weed;  I  refuse  to  cut  grass,  or  to  pick 
up  sticks  with  the  Williamses.  You  look  like  a 
pair  of  peasant  fagot  gatherers,"  she  called  to 
the  two  sisters  who  were  clearing  away  a  small 
pile  of  brush  gathered  by  the  industrious  hands 
of  Mrs.  O'Reilly. 

"And  what  do  you  think  you  are?  A  bloomin' 
aristocrat?"  demanded  Edith. 

"If  I  am,"  answered  Judy,  "my  noblesse  has 
obleeged  me  to  squeeze  lemons  for  the  party. 
It's  a  lowly  job,  but  I'd  rather  do  it  than  pick 
up  sticks." 

"Anything  like  work  is  lowly  to  you,  Miss 
Judy,"  said  Katherine. 

Summer  had  really  come  on  the  heels  of  spring 
with  such  breathless  haste  that  before  they  knew 
it  they  were  plunged  into  warm  weather.  And 
nobody  rejoiced  more  than  Molly  over  the  pass- 
ing of  the  long  cold  winter.  When  at  last  the 


298      MOLLY  BEOWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

sun's  rays  broke  through  the  crust  of  the  frost- 
bound  earth  and  wakened  the  sleeping  things 
underneath,  it  had  seemed  to  the  young  girl  that 
her  cup  of  happiness  was  overflowing.  Not  even 
to  Judy  and  Nance  could  she  explain  how  much 
she  loved  the  spring.  One  day,  seizing  a  trowel 
from  some  tools  on  the  porch,  she  rushed  into 
the  garden  and  began  digging  in  the  flower  beds. 

"You  don't  mind,  do  you,  Mrs.  O'Reilly?"  she 
apologized.  "I'm  so  glad  spring  is  here  at  last 
that  I've  got  to  take  it  out  in  something  besides 
book-learning." 

"I'm  only  too  happy,  Miss,"  said  the  widow. 
"Young  ladies  ain't  often  so  fond  of  the  smell 
of  the  earth." 

It  was  Molly  who  had  introduced  the  cult  of 
the  garden  to  the  other  girls,  and  it  was  she  who 
had  first  induced  Mrs.  O'Reilly  to  resurrect  some 
garden  seats  from  the  cellar  and  a  rustic  table. 
Even  as  early  as  the  first  of  May  they  had  tea 
under  the  apple  trees,  and  as  the  days  grew 
warmer  their  friends  found  them  reading  and 
studying  in  the  sunny  enclosure. 


IN   THE    GAEDEN  299 

They  had  no  idea  of  the  charming  picture  they 
made  grouped  about  in  their  garden;  nor  did 
they  dream  that  Mrs.  O'Reilly  had  occasionally 
allowed  a  visitor  or  two  to  peer  at  them  through 
a  crack  in  the  dining  room  shutters.  Mrs.  Mc- 
Lean and  Professor  Green  were  two  such  privi- 
leged characters  one  afternoon  when  they  called 
at  O'Reilly's  to  leave  notes  of  acceptance  to  a  tea 
to  which  they  had  been  invited  by  the  old  Queen's 
circle.  The  invitations  in  themselves  were  rather 
unusual.  They  were  little  water-color  sketches 
done  by  Judy  and  Otoyo  on  oblong  cards.  Each 
sketch  showed  a  bit  of  the  garden,  and  the  invi- 
tations stated  that  on  the  afternoon  of  June  sec- 
ond there  would  be  tea  in  the  Garden  of 
O'Reilly's. 

"Where  is  this  garden,  Mrs.  O'Reilly?"  Mrs. 
McLean  had  demanded,  and  the  Irish  woman, 
beckoning  mysteriously,  had  shown  them  the 
scene  through  the  crack  in  the  shutter. 

"Why,  bless  the  bairns,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mc- 
Lean, gazing  through  the  opening,  while  Profes- 
sor Green  impatiently  awaited  his  turn.  "They 


300      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

might  be  a  lot  of  wood  nymphs  disporting  them- 
selves under  the  trees." 

Then  the  Professor  had  looked  and  had  dis- 
covered Molly  Brown,  in  her  usual  blue  linen — 
which  was  probably  only  an  imitation  linen- 
raking  grass.  Judy  was  softly  twanging  her 
guitar.  Nance  on  her  knees  beside  a  bed  of  lilies 
was  digging  in  the  earth,  and  the  others  were 
variously  engaged  while  Edith  read  aloud. 

The  Professor  looked  long  at  the  charming 
scene  and  then  observed : 

"It  is  a  pretty  picture.  Wherever  these  girls 
go  they  create  an  atmosphere." 

But  he  was  thinking  of  only  one  girl. 

Someone  else  had  called  at  O'Reilly's  privately 
and  asked  to  see  the  garden. 

It  was  Judith  Blount  who  stood  like  a  dark 
shadow  against  the  window  and  peered  through 
the  crack  in  the  green  shutter.  She  had  come  on 
the  pretext  of  looking  at  rooms  for  next  year, 
but  after  watching  the  scene  in  the  garden  had 
hurried  away. 

"And  I  might  have  been  with  them  now,"  she 


IN   THE    GARDEN  301 

thought  bitterly,  "if  it  hadn't  been  for  my  vile 
temper  that  Christmas  Eve." 

Judith  had  learned  a  good  many  hard  les- 
sons during  the  winter.  She  had  found  out  that 
friends  in  prosperity  are  not  always  friends  in 
adversity.  Her  old-time  rich  associates  at  the 
Beta  Phi  House  had  paid  her  one  or  two  per- 
functory calls  in  the  room  over  the  post-office,  but 
the  days  of  her  leadership  were  over  forever. 
Mary  Stewart  came  often  to  see  her  and  Jenny 
Wren  was  faithful,  but  there  was  great  bitter- 
ness in  Judith's  heart  and  she  chose  frequently 
to  hang  a  "Busy"  sign  on  her  door  so  that  she 
might  brood  over  her  troubles  alone.  She  grew 
very  sallow  and  thin,  and  sat  up  late  at  night 
reading,  there  being  no  ten  o'clock  rules  at  the 
post-office.  Many  times  Madeleine  Petit,  her 
neighbor,  was  wakened  by  the  fragrant  aroma 
of  coffee  floating  down  the  hall  into  her  little 
bedroom. 

"If  she  was  my  daughter,"  Madeleine  observed 
to  Molly  one  day,  "I'd  first  put  her  through  a 
course  of  broken  doses  of  calomel,  and  then  I'd 


302      MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

put  her  to  work  on  something-  besides  lessons. 
Even  laundry  is  good  to  keep  people  from  brood- 
ing. If  I  stopped  to  think  about  all  my  troubles 
and  all  that  is  before  me  in  the  way  of  work  and 
struggles  to  get  on/' she  rattled  along,  "I  wouldn't 
have  time  to  study,  much  less  do  up  jabots  and 
things.  But  I  just  trust  to  luck  and  go  ahead. 
I  find  it  comes  out  all  right.  Mighty  few  people 
seem  to  understand  that  it  makes  a  thing  much 
bigger  to  think  and  think  about  it.  I'd  rather 
enlarge  something  more  worth  while  than  my 
misfortunes." 

Molly  smiled  over  Madeleine's  philosophy. 

"I  mean  to  make  friends  with  her  next  year," 
went  on  Madeleine.  "She  was  rude  to  me  once, 
but  I  am  sorry  for  her  because  we  are  both  go- 
ing through  the  same  struggle  and  I  think  I  can 
give  her  some  ideas.  You  may  not  believe  me, 
but  I  always  succeed  in  doing  the  thing  I  set  out 
to  do.  College  was  as  far  off  from  me  two  years 
ago  as  Judith  seems  to  be  now ' 

"It  will  be  a  fine  thing  for  Judith  if  she  gains 
a  friend  like  you,  Madeleine,"  interrupted  Molly 


IN    THE    GARDEN  303 

warmly.  "See  if  you  can't  start  it  by  bring- 
ing her  to  our  garden  party  with  you  next 
Saturday." 

Molly  delivered  the  invitations  with  which  she 
had  called,  and  giving  Madeleine  a  friendly  kiss, 
she  hastened  on  her  way. 

But  Madeleine's  words  were  prophetic,  as  we 
shall  show  you  in  the  story  of  "Molly  Brown's 
Junior  Days."  Judith  Blount  was  to  learn  much  , 
from  this  energetic  .little  person  and  to  listen 
with  the  patience  of  a  tried  friend  to  her  stream 
of  conversation. 

Molly  felt  very  much  like  embracing  all  her 
friends  that  day  and  kissing  both  hands  to  the 
entire  world  besides.  A  letter  had  come  from 
her  mother  which  settled  the  one  great  question 
in  Molly's  mind  just  then:  Should  she  be  able 
to  return  to  college  for  her  junior  year  and  share 
with  Judy  and  Nance  a  little  three-roomed  apart- 
ment in  the  Quadrangle  near  their  other  friends, 
who  were  all  engaging  rooms  in  that  same  cor- 
ridor? And  that  very  morning  all  doubt  had 


304      MOLLY  BROWX'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

been  dispelled.    Her  mother  had  written  her  the 
wonderful  news: 

"The  stockholders  of  the  Square  Deal  Mine 
will  get  back  their  money,  after  all.  It  seems 
that  Mrs.  Blount  had  some  property  which  she 
was  induced  to  hand  over.  I  am  sorry  that  they 
should  be  impoverished,  but  it  seems  just,  never- 
theless. It  will  be  some  time  before  matters  are 
arranged,  however.  In  the  meantime,  I  have  had 
the  most  extraordinary  piece  of  luck  in  connec- 
tion with  the  two  acres  of  orchard  on  which  I 
borrowed  the  money  for  your  college  expenses. 
I  have  just  sold  it  for  a  splendid  amount — enough 
to  cover  all  debts  on  the  land,  including  the  one 
to  the  President  of  Wellington  University,  and 
to  furnish  your  tuition  and  board  for  the  next 
two  years.  Scarcely  anything  in  all  my  life  has 
pleased  me  more  than  this.  I  don't  even  know 
the  name  of  the  buyer.  The  land  was  purchased 
through  an  agent.  But  whoever  the  person  was, 
he  must  have  been  charmed  with  our  old  orchard. 
It  is  a  pretty  bit  of  property.  Your  father  used 


IN   THE   GARDEN  305 

to  call  it  'his  lucky  two  acres/  because  it  always 
yielded  a  little  income." 

Therefore,  it  was  with  a  light  heart  that  Molly 
delivered  invitations  that  afternoon  to  the  gar- 
den party  at  O'Reilly's. 

She  had  intended  to  shove  an  envelope  under 
the  door  of  Professor  Green's  office  in  the  clois- 
ters and  hurry  on,  not  wishing  to  disturb  that 
busy  and  important  personage,  but  he  had  opened 
the  door  himself  while  she  was  in  the  very  act 
of  slipping  the  invitation  through  the  crack  be- 
tween the  door  and  the  sill. 

"Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  blushing  with  embarrass- 
ment. "Please  excuse  me.  I  only  wanted  to  give 
you  this.  We  hope  you'll  come.  We  shall  feel 
it  a  great  honor  if  you  will  accept." 

"I  accept  without  even  knowing  what  it  is,  if 
that's  the  way  you  feel,"  replied  the  Professor, 
smiling.  "I  would  go  to  a  fudge  party  or  a  picnic 
or  anything  in  the  nature  of  an  entertainment,  if 
I  felt — er — that  is "  the  Professor  was  get- 
ting decidedly  mixed,  and  Molly  saw  with  sur- 


306       MOLLY  BROWN'S  SOPHOMORE  DAYS 

prise  that  he  was  blushing.  "That  is,  if  the  fire 
refugees  wished  it  so  much,"  he  finished. 

"You  look  a  little  tired,  Professor,"  she  re- 
marked, noticing  for  the  first  time  that  he  was 
hollow-eyed  and  his  face  was  thin  and  worn,  as 
if  he  had  been  working  at  night. 

"My  pallor  is  due  entirely  to  disappointment," 
he  answered  laughing,  "our  little  opera  passed 
into  oblivion  the  other  night.  Perhaps  you  would 
have  brought  it  better  luck  if  you  had  been  with 
us." 

"I  would  have  clapped  and  cheered  the  loudest 
of  all,"  exclaimed  Molly.  "But  I'm  so  sorry.  I 
am  sure  it  must  have  been  splendid.  What  was 
the  reason  ?" 

"It  was  just  one  of  those  unfortunate  infants 
destined  to  die  young,"  said  the  Professor.  "I 
thought  it  was  quite  a  neat  little  thing,  myself, 
but  Richard  believes  that  the  plot  had  too  much 
story  and  it  was  a  little — well — too  refined,  if  I 
may  put  it  that  way.  It  needed  more  buffoonery 
of  a  lighter  vein.  It  was  a  joke,  my  writing  it 
in  the  first  place.  However,  I  haven't  lost  any- 


IN   THE    GARDEN  307 

thing  but  time  over  it,  and  I've  gained  a  good 
deal  of  experience." 

"I  am  so  sorry,"  exclaimed  Molly  with  real 
sympathy,  giving  him  her  hand.  "It  seems  rather 
tactless,"  she  said  starting  to  leave  and  turning 
back,  "to  tell  you  about  our  good  luck  just  now, 
but  of  course  you  knew  about  the  Square  Deal 
Mine,  anyway." 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  answered.  "They  are  going  to 
pay  off  all  the  creditors.  An  old  cousin  of  Mrs. 
Blount's  in  Switzerland  died  the  other  day  with- 
out leaving  a  will,  and  she  inherits  his  property. 
It's  pretty  hard  on  her  to  give  it  up  just  now 
when  she  needs  it  dreadfully,  but  Richard  has 
induced  her  to  do  it  and  I  suppose  it  is  right. 
It  will  take  a  year  at  least  to  straighten  out  the 
affair  though.  There  is  so  much  red  tape  about 
American  heirs  getting  European  property." 

"Then,  I've  had  some  luck,  too,"  said  Molly, 
making  an  effort  to  keep  the  Professor  from  see- 
ing how  really  joyously  happy  she  was.  "Some 
perfectly  delightful  and  charming  person  has 
bought  my  two  acres  of  apple  orchard  at  last, 


308      MOLLY  BROWX'S  SOPHOMOEE  DAYS 

and  I  shall  not  be  down  at  O'Reilly's  next  win- 
ter. I'm  going  to  be  in  the  Quadrangle  with  the 
others.  Isn't  it  wonderful?" 

The  Professor  looked  at  her  with  his  quizzical 
brown  eyes ;  then  he  shook  hands  with  her  again. 

"Does  it  really  make  you  very  happy?"  he 
asked. 

"Oh,  you  can't  think!"  she  cried.  "You  can 
never  know  how  relieved  and  happy  I  am.  I've 
been  walking  on  air  all  day.  I  shall  always  feel 
that  the  man  who  bought  that  orchard  did  it  just 
for  me,  although  of  course  he  has  never  heard 
of  me.  Some  day  I  am  going  to  thank  him,  my- 
self." 

"You  are?"  he  asked,  "and  how  will  you  thank 
him?" 

"Why,"  she  replied,  "why,  I  think  I'll  just  give 
him  a  hug.  I  have  a  feeling  that  he's  an  old  gen- 
tleman." 

The  Professor  sat  down  in  his  chair  very  sud- 
denly and  began  to  laugh,  and  he  was  still  laugh- 
ing when  Molly  sped  down  the  corridor  to  the 
door  into  the  court.  She  did  not  see  him  again 


IN   THE    GARDEN  309 

until  the  day  of  the  farewell  tea  in  the  garden 
of  O'Reilly's. 

*  *  *  And  it  is  in  the  garden  that  we  will 
leave  our  girls  now,  at  the  close  of  their  sopho- 
more year. 

They  look  very  charming  in  their  long  white 
dresses,  dispensing  tea  and  lemonade  and  sand- 
wiches to  the  small  company  of  guests.  It  is 
the  last  time  we  shall  see  the  old  Queen's  circle 
as  a  separate  group.  O'Reilly's  had  filled  the 
need  of  the  moment,  but  the  friends  agreed  that 
nothing  could  ever  take  the  place  of  Queen's  un- 
less it  were  the  long-coveted  quarters  in  the  dorm- 
itories behind  the  twin  gray  towers  of  Welling- 
ton. 

There  we  shall  find  them  during  "MoLLY 
BROWN'S  JUNIOR  DAYS/'  living  broader  and  less 
secluded  lives  in  the  fine  old  Quadrangle  which 
had  always  been  the  center  of  interest  and  influ- 
ence at  Wellington  College  and  now  promised  to 
add  a  unique  chapter  to  her  history. 


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